The Monster I've Become
by LtTanyaBoone
Summary: When someone from her past is trying to assassinate her, Ziva does not know what to do. Run and hide? Or stay and fight and ultimately kill the person that was once part of her family.
1. Chapter 1

**_Title:_** The Monster I've Become_  
**Disclaimers:**_ NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this._  
**A/N:**_ English is not my native language. So please forgive me my grammar and spelling mistakes._  
**Spoilers:**_ Kill Ari I and II especially, perhaps a bit of Legends I and II, Semper Fi and Aliyah, if only because Michael Rivkin is part of this story, takes place at some place during Season 6, after Dagger, but Judgement Day has never happened, Director Jenny Shepard is still very much alive and healthy, AU_  
**Pairing**_**:** may have light notes of Jibbs and Tiva, though nothing too obvious_  
**Summary:**_ How far would you go to protect your family? What would you give up for the ones you loved? And would you be willing die for them if it means they survive another day? When Ziva David was forced to kill her half-brother Ari Haswari, her heart broke. Now when someone from her past is trying to assassinate her, Ziva does not know what to do. Run and hide? Stay and fight and ultimately kill the person that was once part of her family? Or give up and die for her?_  
**Posting shedule: **_This is listed as WIP, but is already completed. I'll probably upload a chapter per week, on the weekends. If the chapter's too short, I'll either upload two, or update with another one in the middle of the week, depending on my shedule and on internet access.  
**_A/N2_:** Sentences in |this format| are spoken in Arabic, *this format* indicates Hebrew sentences. Everything that uses "this format" is normal English. Depending on which side of the pond you are, of course ;-) And on how badly I screwed up the language. My apologies for that.  
Also, with the third chapter, the rating on this will go up to M! It's only the third chapter that requires that rating, but it's still necessary.

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Heaving a frustrated sigh, the young woman brushed a few locks of her dark hair from her face and glanced around. The place was too public for her liking, too open. There were too many people, the risk of missing the mark increasing with every other person on the square. Not enough back alleys to disappear into afterwards, too. Not enough crates, dumpsters, not enough _anything_ to take cover behind if this took a turn for the worse.

Feeling a presence next to her, she relaxed slightly. Arabic words were muttered, the recital of a prayer, the familiar words rolling off of her tongue, comforting her. She made a mental note to check if there were any mosques in the area that held service early in the morning. She needed to properly pray again, two weeks were much too long for her liking.

|See her?| the man next to her asked. She shook her head slightly. All they had was a vague description. No photograph, just the knowledge that they were looking for someone with a Federal agency. Female, early thirties, Middle Eastern descent and looks, dark hair, brown, almost black eyes, 1,70 meters tall. It could have been just as well been a description of herself, if it weren't for the part with the Federal agency.

|Patience. She'll show up eventually.| she said, giving her partner and husband a slight smile. She yearned to reach out and brush a curl out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. Stupid undercover assignments. Stupid American customs. She had loved his beard, it had been so... him. Now all that was left of it was the slight stubble that had grown from three days without shaving.

|I know. I just... something feels off.| he shook his head, looking around again. Spotting their other team members, he gave a slight shake of his head, and the other woman and man shook their heads, too, before disappearing into the crowd again. Just as they were about to give up, something caught her eye. A dark jacket, with bold white letters. _NCIS._ She slightly touched her partner's arm and nodded in the general direction of the jacket she had seen. He looked that way, his eyes narrowing. Then he nodded. They had found them, at least a part of them. Now they only had to corner the woman. Or not, depending if it could be done without causing much attention. Gazing into the direction their other teammates had disappeared before, she found the eyes of the other man on their team, and he nodded. They had seen it, too. Excellent.

Reaching under her longer jacket, she felt the familiar coldness of her gun. In her head, she retraced her steps of the last two days. Three empty clips, another reload, another two bullets fired. Farook was also one bullet short, if her memory served right. The other two she did not know about, just hoped that they did check if they actually HAD a bullet in their clips and not come with useless weapons.

Taking another step forward into the direction of the agents, she suddenly felt a cold chill run down her spine. Reaching out, she placed a hand on Farook's arm. He stopped and stared at her, confusion written over his beautiful face. She shook her head slightly. He had been right, something was way off. She could feel it too. And the fact that the last time she had felt like this had cost her her best friend because they had been exposed did not help her relax.

"You are right." she whispered in English, mindful that someone could catch their conversation, and not wanting to alert federal agents to the fact that her native language was Arabic. Farook frowned for a brief second, and then he nodded his head. He had gotten the message, and he would be careful.

They advanced again, but only made it another ten meters when suddenly, a shot rang out and all hell broke loose.

"FEDERAL AGENTS! FREEZE!"

The yell brought out a curse from Farook, and they both pulled out their guns. She turned around, and saw Amir fall when the sound of another shot being fired rang out. Layla also had her gun drawn, but now she backpedaled, and made a run for her money as bullets whizzed around her. Deciding that if would be safer than staying in one place and waiting for bullet to be put through her, she decided to run after her, realizing too late that the agents had not seen her and Farook before.

|RUN!| she heard his voice and turned around shortly, only to see him hurrying off in a different direction. Picking up speed, she ran after Layla, trying desperately to catch up with her. She knew the area better than her, and she needed to get Layla to safety. After all, it was only her second mission; they couldn't lose her this early. Shots rang out again after she ignored the second warning to stop running. One grazed her left arm, and she turned around and fired blindly. Turning her face so she could see where she was going again, she caught up with Layla who was more hobbling then running by now. She must have taken a hit, judging by the blood seeping through her light pants.

|This way!| she said, and pushed Layla into a back alley, just as another bullet hit the wall behind her. They made it to the end of the block where one of their cars was parked. Throwing the keys at Layla, she let her run ahead while turning around. And cursing loudly. One agent was already in the middle, and another was catching up with him. Her eyes widened when she realized that the second one was a woman. One of her height, dark curls under the NCIS cap, and brown eyes. Their mark.

"NCIS! FEDERAL AGENTS! FREEZE, OR WE'LL SHOOT!" the male agent yelled at her. He slowed down a bit, his gun trained at her. She hesitated. She could dodge his bullet from this distance, maybe she could make it to the car in time. She had another minute, maybe less until Layla would drive off. Then again, she could also try to take a hit at the woman. That was, until she came closer.

"Ziva?" her voice was nothing more than a shocked whisper. She couldn't believe it. Hamas had sent her, her of all people, to take out Mossad Officer Ziva David. That was why they were only given a description, and not a picture or even a name. They had known that she would immediately recognize her and decline. She had been played.

"Drop your gun!" the male agent yelled at her, standing at the distance. Ziva had caught up with him, and she trained her gun on her for a moment, before she frowned in confusion. Realization and recognition dawned on her, and she lowered her weapon. And the younger woman took that as her opportunity. She ducked and ran for her life. Behind her, she heard a sharp yell of "Tony, NO!" and a shot rang out. The bullet whizzed past her and entered the wall where milliseconds before her head had been.

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_Reviews? Pretty please?_

_Make my day, I beg you. National Holiday in Germany today, and my grandmother from hell is celebrating her birthday today. I so do not want to go. Plus, I'm freezing in a light sweater and jeans already and will have to change into a dress in two hours and leave my spot next to the heater._

_And before I forget it: A **HUGE** Thank You for all your reviews and favorites on Home and Justified. You made my week, guys, seriously.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for your reviews on the first chapter. I really hope I'm not disappointing anyone's expectations with this. Also, triggered by an anonymous review, feel free to point out "weird" instances in your reviews, especially when it comes to word choice and/or grammar. I take no offense by it, on the contrary, I'm partly writing to improve my English, which will only work if someone points out my mistakes._

_And a reminder: With the next chapter, this story goes up to the **M-rating**!  
_

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Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Ziva replayed the scene in the alley for what felt like the hundredth time. The moment that she came face to face with the other woman had pierced her heart and knocked all breath out of her. She looked older, more mature than she remembered her to be. But then that was to be expected, after all it had been three years since she had last seen her. Her dark eyes had been such a contrast to the sparkling warm brown that she had seen in them when they had first met when Ziva was fourteen. She had been five, so young and innocent. And immediately, Ziva had fallen for her. Two years younger than Tali was back then, and Ziva had felt a deep affection for the little girl that was not even her sister, not related to her by blood in any way. She was not only not related to her, she was also Palestinian. Born in the Gaza strip. To Ari's mother and her husband.

Ziva had not thought that the shot at the square they had been at had been meant for her. She had not even considered the possibility that it had been directed to anyone of Team Gibbs. But in hindsight, she knew how foolish that had been. She should have known that sooner or later, her Mossad past would catch up with her, and that there would be hell to pay. She had endangered her team, Tony, McGee, and Gibbs. And she had helped a terrorist that had tried to kill her escape.

When the younger woman had turned around, Ziva had reacted on instinct. She had lunged at Tony whose finger curled around the trigger of his gun. Not willing to let the last person that had loved Ari die, she had knocked him over and tumbled to the ground on top of him. When she looked up again, their suspect had disappeared.

Turning on the water, Ziva wet her face and dried it off again. She could not hide in here forever, even if she wanted to do just that. Sooner or later, Gibbs would get impatient, and either send Jenny after her, or come for her herself. So Ziva pulled herself up, squared her shoulders and left the restrooms.

In the bullpen, Ducky was looking at Tony's shoulder, while McGee stared at security camera shots of the two women Tony and Ziva had run after. Seeing one of the faces up close caused a chill to run down Ziva's spine. She had been sent to execute her, that she was sure of. But she had had the time to do it, why had she hesitated? Perhaps she had felt the same things Ziva had, the same unnamed feeling that had instantly cursed through her, and that she was now able to identify as a potent mix of love, pity and regret, something so strong she had only felt once, three years ago in the basement of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. When she had been the murderer of her own brother.

"You wanna tell me something?" Gibbs asked her, his blue eyes boring into her. Ziva swallowed dry, hesitating. Her own death sentence was signed. She did not want to sign that of her, too. Then again, she had done it countless times before, had sold the people that had gotten too close, had executed Palestinians and terrorists before. Why was this any different? Because she had not known them personally most of the time. They had been just names and faces, people that deserved to die for their crimes. But she was someone that had a past, she was a young girl with sparkling eyes, she was a laughing child and Ari's arms, she was a stubborn teenager that spat with Ziva's father. She was a person in every sense of the word, a human being that was capable of emotions, and Ziva had seen it, had witnessed how much compassion she had in her heart, how complex her understand of her situation and life was.

"I can make this official, Officer David. If you protect someone, I will take your badge and gun and put you on desk duty. Or on a plane back to Israel. You decide." Gibbs threatened, getting closer in her face. Ziva tried to hold his stare, but she couldn't. She couldn't betray them, too. She had already betrayed her family, Ari, her father... She could not do this to the people she had come to love and think of as her family. So she broke the gaze and grabbed the pointer device from McGee, enlarging the picture of the woman she had protected.

"Her name is Kadira Esfiri." she began, her voice shaking slightly. She took a deep breath and focused on the facts. She could do that, give them the facts, concentrate on the figures and not the person behind them. Not see the small girl that was petrified and clutching at the legs of her brother tightly, not see the young woman stand at a fresh grave, gaze unblinking and unseeing, lost in her grief.

"Twenty-two years old, born in the Gaza strip, raised in Gaza City. Her native language is Arabic, she's perfectly fluent in Hebrew as well as Pashto. Married to Farook Esfiri. Met him when she was sixteen, engaged shortly before her brother died, I do not know how long they have been married, though. No children or living relatives, at least not as far as I know. Parents are dead, the only brother, an older half brother was killed three years ago." Ziva told them, looking into a face that once held so much compassion and love but now was hard as stone.

*Oh Kadi, what have you become?* Ziva muttered softly in Hebrew without thinking.

"And you know her **how**?" Tony asked and got up from his chair. Ziva did not even glance at him. She did not want to answer that question, and she would not do it.

"GODDAMMIT, ZIVA!" he yelled at her, getting in her face. "You pushed me! I want to know who that person is to you. What does she mean to you if you betray me, _your partner_, to safe _her_?! She escaped with the girl that shot at you, for God's sake!"

Ziva stared into his green eyes, and felt tears spring to hers. She saw Tali in front of her, in the yard, playing tag with Kadi. The three of them together, laughing in the rain. Kadira softly talking to her, her Arabic accent making her Hebrew sound so much different from her own, the occasional Arabic word replacing one she did not know. Her accusing eyes at Ari's grave. Her silent question why he was dead when she had been his control officer. Why she had let her brother die but survived herself. Ziva had never been as close to tell anyone that it had been her that had fired the fatal shot as she had been at that moment when the rain had started to pour down on them. It had been the last time she had seen Kadira until today.

"Her maiden name was Haswari." Ziva softly whispered. The first tear escaped and made its way down her cheek. Tony stared at her in confusion when she broke the gaze before looking back into his eyes, not bothering with wiping away the first tear because she already knew there would be many more to follow. "She is Ari's half-sister." At that, her voice broke, and Ziva started to cry in front of her team, her partner and her boss. Her knees gave out under her, and Tony barely caught her before she hit the floor. Burying her face in his shoulder, Ziva cried for the innocent girl that had become a terrorist, a monster. In killing her brother, in ending Ari's life, in shooting the monster he had become, she had created another one. And this time, there was no making it right again. Just like the last time, someone would die for a mistake her family had made. It was only open who that person would be. Kadira or Ziva.

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_I know that Ziva breaking down is a tiny bit OOC for her. But she cried in front of Gibbs during Hiatus. And came very close to crying in front of Tony at the end of Dagger. And I kind of wanted to finally let the others see what losing Ari had really done to her._

_Reviews? Pretty please?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Again, thank you for your kind feedback and favorites. So, this is why the story had to go up to the M-rating. I normally don't write smut, but this was one of the few stories where it felt right and I actually just realized what I was writing halfway through. This is also the longest chapter for the story. And now I will shut up and leave you to read.  
_

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Taking the water bottle, Kadira took a sip of the warm liquid before she handed it back to her husband. Behind them on the bed, Layla was asleep, the painkillers having kicked in and effectively knocking her out. She could feel Farook's eyes on her. Normally, she was not this silent; normally, he would have heard the story of their escape, of how she had dodged the bullets. Normally, it would end up with them in the bathroom, her pressed against the door with him buried deep inside of her, making love, taking care of the arousal that the close encounter had caused. Celebrating the fact that they were still alive when Amir was not. But she couldn't. She did not want to talk, and she certainly did not want to be touched anywhere. The pictures where back in her mind, the moment she had recognized Ziva's face the lock she had kept on the drawer in her mind had broken, and they had all come flooding back, assaulting her. Memories long ago buried deep inside of her, moments she had forbidden herself to remember. But oh, how she did remember. She still felt the warm rain on her skin when she had played tag with Tali in the yard belonging to the Israeli's father's large mansion. She could still hear Ziva's voice as she sang to her in Hebrew, some kid's song that made her really believe that race and religion did not matter, that they were the same.

Angrily, Kadira forced the happy memories aside. They had been lies, nothing more than lies. Just like the one Ari had told her when he promised he would return from the US soon, and that they would be together forever from then on. Just like when her father had said he would be right back from fetching some stupid documents from his car. Just like the Israeli soldier that had said she did not need to be afraid of him, he was only making sure she would get home safely after breaking the curfew. She had only been thirteen and lost her virginity to a monster that had threatened to shoot her the moment they were out of earshot of the other soldiers.

She had known what her brother was doing at Mossad. And it had broken a part of her heart. She had believed that he was different from the other Israelis. That having a Palestine mother had made a difference in Ari. As a small child, she had been furious when her mother died, not because she was dead, but because Ari got to stay in Israel and her father took her back to Gaza. She had wanted to be with Ari. And up until she saw a Mossad agent kill the father of her best friend, she had still worshipped the ground her older brother walked on. She had loved Ziva and Tali and had been devastated when she heard the news of Tali's death. She had cried for days, because even at only fourteen, she knew exactly what the death of the youngest child of Director David meant. In the following airstrikes, she had lost three friends. They had paid for something Hamas had done. Not understanding who had started the bloodshed, all Kadira had wanted was for it to end. She had wanted nothing more than the pain and grief to finally end, to not put another picture into the small photograph album she kept in her desk drawer. She had not wanted another chair at the makeshift school she went to to be abandoned from one day to the next because the occupant had died. All she had wanted was safety and a future that did not have PAIN written all over it in bold letters.

At night, she had stared at the stars in the dark sky, naming them in her head, first in Arabic, then in Hebrew. She had known that wherever he was, Ari would be doing just the same. He had always done it with her when he visited. He had taught her the Hebrew names, and told her stories to go with the constellations. They had picked one out for their mother, and one for Tali. Before he went to the US, he had visited one last time. And the last night they spent together, he had taken her up on the room of the shabby hut she and her father lived in. They had lain on the dirty ground, staring at the stars, Ari's arm wrapped around her, her snuggled into his side, her ear right above his heart. And then he had picked out a star for himself. He had pointed at it, and told her it was his. Kadira had not understood the significance of that action. Ari brought out the child in her again, she felt so much younger when she was with him, like she could be a child again and he would protect her from any harm. But she still remembered the cold chill running down her spine when she had wanted to pick a star for herself, and he had told her no, his gentle voice harsh all of a sudden, an edge in it that she had never heard before. He had known he would die. And still he had promised her he would take her to Tel Aviv to visit Ziva for her birthday. Only the thing was, her birthday had come. And she had been in Tel Aviv alright. But she had stood at her brother's grave, placing a small stone where in a little less than a year the headstone would be, telling the world that Ari Haswari laid there, beloved son and brother. Then she had turned her back on Israel. Instead of going back to Eli David's house where Ziva and her father were waiting for her so she could join Mossad, she had vanished from their radar. She had met up with Ari's contact in Hamas, determined to end what her brother had begun. He had turned against Mossad, even though neither Eli nor Ziva had said it, it had been clear. Why else would Eli David not attend the funeral of his only son?

And now she had orders to kill Ziva David. The woman she had considered to be her sister. She knew that Ziva had tried to find her during the last three years. But constant changing of her alias and her looks had made it impossible for anyone to keep track of her movements. Hell, even Farook had not known where she was for a lot of their marriage, just as she had had no idea where he was. This was their first mission together after seven months of no contact at all. And she had missed him so much. He was her anchor in this chaos; he was the one constant thing. Even when he was not right at her side, she knew he was out there somewhere, loving her just like she was loving him.

|We need to make contact. Amir's dead, they need to know.| Farook's soft voice pulled Kadira from her thoughts, and she nodded slowly. He was right. But there was also a problem. Amir had been the oldest, hence why he had had the contact details. They all knew the name, but how to find the person, how to establish contact was a different matter.

All of a sudden, Kadira did not want to think any more. She did not want to consider the options any longer; she did not want to go through the details of what had happened, of what to tell their contact. She just wanted to forget. And there was only on way she could think of, other than drinking herself senseless. And she was a Muslim woman; she did not drink unless it was necessary for her cover.

Letting her hand run down the arm of her husband, she stood up before straddling his hip, looking into his eyes. Farook raised an eyebrow at her, a silent question as to what was going on inside her head. Letting her eyes wander over his face, Kadira willed herself to forget the last few hours. She rocked her hips slightly and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his lips. When he responded and opened his mouth to her begging tongue, she let a small moan escape her lips. 29 hours had been far too long for her liking. Her senses went into overdrive when she felt his hands slip under her shirt, caressing the soft skin he found on her back. She reached up and buried her hands in his hair, tasting the sweetness of his kiss, peppermint and raspberry and something that was just him, the essence of Farook Esfiri. Her mind took her back to their wedding night, how gentle he had been, whispering soft words of comfort and love as he had wiped away her tears and made love to her for the first time, her fear slowly slipping away she had allowed herself to fall completely, had surrendered to his touch and kissed every coherent thought good bye. She silently cursed the fact that Layla was wounded and they only had one bed in the shabby motel room. Her heart ached for a slow pace, a lazy rhythm that had nothing to do with bodily needs but everything with their feelings for each other. She wanted to make love, not have a quick fuck in the bathroom. Her hands found their way between them, and she quickly undid the buttons of Farook's shirt, letting her nails rack teasingly over his muscles, causing him to suck in a deep breath. His mouth moved from hers to her jaw and then her neck. When she felt his teeth graze over her pulse point, she quickly covered her mouth with one of her hands to keep from screaming out. His erection pressed against her through the fabric of their pants, and Kadira rocked her hips again, moaning at the sensation.

|Bathroom.| she whispered into his ear. Farook stood up, and she wrapped her legs around him, securing herself to him. In the tiny room, however, he sat her down on the counter before closing the door and locking it. His normally dark brown eyes had turned black with desire when he looked at her again, grabbing a towel off the rack, and unfolding it before letting it fall to the ground. Kadira raised an eyebrow in confusion when he took the place between her legs again, looking into her eyes as he let his hand run through the dark curls of her hair.

|I love you. More than anything else in the world.| he softly said, causing her eyes to water. She reached up and took his face between her hands before pulling him down and kissing him lovingly, murmuring her love for him against his lips in turn. His hands found the way under her shirt again, and pulled on the hem. Reluctantly, she raised her arms and broke the kiss for a second so he could take it off. She brushed his shirt off his shoulders, causing it to fall to the floor and join her shirt. While Farook kissed his way down her throat and to her lace-covered breasts, she threw her head back and arched into his touch, not able to suppress the moans that escaped her. Her brain kicked in again, telling her that this would not work as long as they were still clad in their pants and underwear. Making quick work of the button and zipper of her husband's jeans, she pulled at them, causing them and his boxers to slide to the ground.

|Someone's definitely overdressed.| Farook murmured against the valley of her breasts and she felt one of his hands sneaking into her pants while the other wrapped around her, pulling her to him, his hand resting between her shoulder blades, allowing her back to arch. When his thumb found her clitoris, she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, the moan so loud her husband quickly kissed her to stifle the sound.

|Oh GOD!| she yelled as she felt two of his fingers slip inside her, moving in a come-hither-motion, hitting her g-spot perfectly. She felt him smile against her lips, and decided two could play this game. Reaching down between them, she took his rock-hard member into her hand, her thumb gently rubbing over the slit. Farook bucked his hips against her, moaning her name into her mouth, tightening his hold on her, his fingers stilling inside of her for a moment. They continued to tease each other until the lust became unbearable, and they could not hold back for much longer. At some point, Kadira had lost her bra, the black lace had taken the trip to the floor just like her pants and string did now. To her surprise, Farook did not enter her. Instead, he lifted her up from the counter, and slowly bent down. Getting what he was doing, Kadira wrapped her legs around him and let go of him, using her hands to brace the fall behind her while he held her close to him. The towel made the cool tiles bearable, though it was scratchy against her oversensitive skin. Pulling down his head, Kadira kissed her husband deeply, feeling his penis press against her entrance. Breaking the kiss, she looked into his eyes before she pushed up against him, sinking him into her, quickly covering his mouth as she moved her head and softly screamed into his shoulder. The last thing they needed was for Layla to wake up and come knocking on the bathroom door.

They both lay panting, holding each other close, and enjoying the sensation of being joined as one. After a while, Kadira turned to look into his eyes again, rocking her hips slightly, the message loud and clear. They picked up a lazy rhythm, slow and intense, slowly gaining speed.

|I love you.| Kadira whispered when she felt the pressure inside of her build up, her hips bucking against her husband's, her nails racking over his back, leaving marks that would no doubt be visible for a few days. His movements became erratic, he slammed into her harder, and she grabbed his wrists next to her head, entwining their fingers, flexing her hands as she wrapped her legs around him, tightening her hold, changing the angle slightly and causing him to hit her g-spot again with the next trust. She cried out his name as the first wave of her orgasm hit her hard, knocking the breath out of her. Her hips bucked against him again, her inner muscles tightening around him, releasing him and tightening again, causing him to lose his battle for control and spill his seed into her, her name on his lips and echoing off the tiled walls. He collapsed onto her, but immediately rolled onto his side, his hands going to her back, keeping her close with him and himself buried inside of her as they waited for their heart rates to return to normal and their breathing to slow down. Kadira closed her eyes, her face buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. She felt his fingers trail lazy circles on her naked and sweaty back and his lips kiss her hair. Listening to his heartbeat slowing down gave her a sense of security and safety, and she allowed herself to surrender to the need for sleep. A few minutes later, Farook's breathing evened out, too, his eyes slowly closing and his mind shutting down, joining his wife in her peaceful slumber.

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_So there's the reason for the M-rating of the story. That, and the ending. Sorta._

_Reviews? Pretty please? And feel free to point out grammatical errors and poor word choice.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

When the first drop of rain hit the window pane, Ziva got up from the bed she had been sitting on. Slowly she walked over to the window, watching as thick droplets of rain ran down the glass. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She had always loved the rain. In Israel, it was all the more welcome. It brought life and color to the desert and cooled the smoldering heat. It meant life for the people there. Children got out, played in the rain. Lovers danced with soaking clothes clinging to their bodies.

Here, rain was different. Heavier, but also much gloomier. It fit her current mood perfectly. Her mind went back three years, the first time she had felt like the heavens were punishing her by opening the floodgates as she stood at Ari's grave, staring into Kadira's dark eyes, seeing the pain and grief there. Before that day, she had truly loved the rain. But from then on, it had reminded her of what ifs and lost chances, words unspoken, lies to cover up their flaws...

The first time she had seen snow she was eighteen. It had been a present from her father. He had paid for a trip to Paris before she had to start her military training. Ari had gone with her. It had been winter, around the time of Chanukah. Though people in France did only think about the oncoming Christmas celebrations. But Ziva hadn't minded. She had enjoyed her time together with Ari. On the second day, December 11, when she was out with Ari, hunting for presents for Tali and their father and Kadira, it had started snowing. Ziva had stood completely still and watched the white flocks dance to the ground slowly. After a while, a smile had spread on her lips, she had dropped the shopping bags on the ground and spread her arms wide, throwing her head back in joyful laughter. Snow had been so much better than rain. It did not wash away what had been done, it covered the landscape and everything, transformed it into something much more peaceful and serene. Her lips curled into a smile as she remember her sudden urge to hug Ari who had been standing beside her, staring at her at first, then smiling and shaking his head at her youthful fascination and joy. And she had done it. She had hugged him so hard that it had been hard for him to breath, but he had just wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair almost completely covered with snowflakes.

The next time, the snow it had been tinged with blood. It had been in Siberia, they had hunted down a terrorist and when her partner shot him, the blood splattered onto the snow, the contrast fascinating. Ziva had stood there in the cold, freezing, watching as the blood seeped from the body of the terrorist and soaked into the snow. Intricate patterns that had burned themselves into her memory, even more than the face of the man that had been shot. After a few years, the faces and stories blurred together. They were all the same, all had something in common. But the way they died was always unique even though the elements of their demises were reoccurring.

After she had shot Ari, Ziva had left Gibbs' house and stood on the sidewalk, letting the rain soak her clothes and wash over her face, mixing with her tears, making it impossible to tell if she was really crying or if it was just the rain wetting her face. She had stood there, motionless, hoping that the water would wash away what she had just done. That it would rinse the flaws away, make her mistakes and errors disappear. Make it right again. And hours later, she had gotten under the shower in her hotel room. She had just told her father that Ari was dead, telling him she would inform Kadira of the fact that their brother had been shot on a Mossad mission. Turning on the tap, she had let the hot water fall down on her, warming her from the outside while she felt so numb and empty inside.

She wanted to do the same thing again. She wanted to leave the room, the building and just let the rain soak through her clothes. Her gaze travelled across the buildings surrounding the area, and suddenly she realized that wherever Kadira was right now, she was probably close, and maybe staring at the rain just like her.

The sharp ring of her cell phone caused Ziva to jump a little. Walking over to the bed where she had tossed it, she glanced at the caller ID.

_DiNozzo NCIS_

The last person she wanted to talk to. Though maybe not. The last person she wanted to talk to right now was her father, followed very closely by Gibbs and then DiNozzo. She did not want to explain, she did not want to defend her actions, she did not want to tell the story of her life again. She was tired of all this, tired of telling, tired of explaining over and over again, tired of having to talk when all she wanted was to curl up in bed and die. Which would not be too hard. By now, Kadira should have the intel of where she worked, the type and color of her car, including the license plate, and her address and probably also her phone number. If she curled up in bed, chances were she'd be dead in a few hours, a day at most. Hence why Director Shepard had insisted on her not going back to her own apartment. Instead, she would spend the night at her place, and tomorrow they would try to find Kadira and her "friends".

Brushing a few stray locks of hair out of her face, Ziva took the duffel bag McGee had brought over an hour or so ago. Rummaging through it, she found that she had all the necessary things, even fresh underwear. She could just image how Tony had liked rummaging through her drawers and picking something out, sure that she would have to wear it the next day. Pushing the thoughts of DiNozzo touching her private belongings aside, she pulled out enlarged photographs and set the bag back down on the floor. Taking up residence at the center of the bed, Ziva slowly swifted through the pictures of Kadira and the rest of the gang. She could hear Ducky's voice inside her head as he ran a preliminary report on the guy they had shot. His face was vaguely familliar, Ziva was sure she had seen it before, most likely on some WANTED-list of Mossad.

The young girl seemed to be nervous. It had been her who had fired the initial shot, missing Ziva only by a few inches. Remarkable, at the given distance and the fact that there were a lot of other people around. Scanning through the pictures again, she sorted them by the time stamps on them. Seeing the interaction between Kadira and her husband, she felt a pang of jealousy. Yes, they were killers. But even with the bad quality of the pictures she could see love written all over their faces. How come Kadira got what she never had?

Suddenly, a thought registered with her. The last name of the duo was Esfiri. She had heard that name before, in a Hamas context. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and searched for a face, another name, anything. At first, she drew a blank. Nothing. Thinking harder, she thought back on the last run in with Hamas she had had. It had been the whole Ari debacle. And then it hit her. The man Gibbs and Jen had shot when they thought it was Ari shooting at them in the dark, his name had been Esfiri, too. Remembering his face, Ziva dug out that of Farook again. She had never met him personally, and knew very little about him. Two years older than Kadira, he had been born in Gaza, too, spent the first years in Deiral Balah before his parents died and he moved to his uncle in Gaza City. His uncle... Ziva threw the pictures on the bed and ran down the stairs in Jenny's house, barking into her study. The NCIS director looked up from her paperwork and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I am not debating your staying here, Ziva." she told her, taking a sip of her bourbon. Ziva shook her head and drew a deep breath.

"Remember the guy you shot? When Ari was in town and you were with Gibbs?" Ziva panted. Jen frowned at her, then slowly nodded. "I was thinking. The name Esfiri sounded familiar for a different reason. And I got it. The guy you shot three years ago, Muhammed Esfiri... He was Farook Esfiri's cousin. They grew up together, sort of, Farook moved to his house after his parents died when he was nine."

"His parents _died_?" Jen pried for information, but Ziva shook her head.

"I do not know how. Really, I did not look him up with that much interest. Mossad also did not have too much information on him. But if Muhammed knew Ari, chances are Farook did, too." she said, sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs. Jen watched her face for a while, before speaking up again.

"It really hurt you, didn't it? That she was there, firing at you." she asked. Ziva thought for a moment, and then gave a small sigh.

"Yes. No. I do not know." she said, rubbing a hand over her face. "That is just it. She did _not_ shoot at me. It was the other girl that fired the first shot, I have scanned through the pictures again, it seems like Kadi did not even know they had spotted me. Her reaction shows it all. Jane Doe fires, and then Kadi and her husband take out their guns. They had not seen me before. And when the girl runs, Kadira follows after her, while her husband runs the other way. He only fired at Gibbs and McGee twice, too, Kadira only tried to take down Tony once. And there is something else."

At Jen's arched eyebrow, Ziva took a deep breath before continuing.

"I know it sounds stupid, and maybe I am not seeing clearly. But in that alley, she whispered my name. And she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. She did not know I was their mark, Jen. She did not have the slightest idea as to who they had to take out."

The NCIS Director seemed to think her statement over in her head before answering.

"Why would they not tell them who they are to take out? I mean, it would just cause confusion, and the risk that they kill the wrong person, drawing attention onto themselves and having to finish the job later on would be significantly bigger." she argued, frowning slightly. Ziva just stared ahead, shaking her head slowly.

"I do not know. Maybe they were afraid of how she was going to react, and now it is too late to backpedal for her. Maybe... I do not know." she shook her head, burying her face in her hands. This was such a big mess. She had enjoyed her life, for a few moments she had been truly happy with the turn it had taken, with who she was and who she was with. She was satisfied with where she stood; her future had lost some of its gloomy prospect. But now she was not even sure if she would survive the next few days. And if she did, she knew that someone else had to die for it. Someone she had loved so deeply, and still cared for. Someone she was not sure she was willing to let.

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_Review? Pretty please?_

_I'm sorry for the slight delay, I was in Franfurt yesterday and did not have internet there._


	5. Chapter 5

_I am so sorry for not updating last week. Uni has just started, and I was busy reading through dozens of texts and trying to change my seminar courses and stuff. Again, I'm very sorry. So as an apology, there will be one chapter today, and another one tomorrow._

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Layla's soft moan filled the motel room as Kadira changed the dressing on her thigh and pulled the covers back on her. Leaning in, she felt her forehead. The girl was burning up. If this continued, they would have to find a doctor and force him to get her some meds. The bullet had entered her left thigh and passed right through, missing any major arteries. The loss of blood was not too bad, but apparently, the wound had become infected. Damn. This was the last thing they needed. Kadira had planned on switching motels today. But if yesterday had been bad, with Layla barely able to hold herself upright as they checked in, today would be worse. Someone carrying a semi-unconscious woman would draw a lot more attention than she would like to have on them.

Hearing the bathroom door open, Kadira brushed a few strands of hair out of Layla's face and kissed her forehead softly, telling her to go back to sleep. When she straightened herself up, she felt Farook's arms wrap around her waist and his lips on her neck, kissing it softly. She allowed herself to close her eyes, leaning back into him, enjoying the moment before turning around and kissing the corner of his mouth softly. She stepped around him and took one of the glasses on the desk, filling it with water. Farook leaned down to check on Layla himself, worry edged on his face. He pulled back the covers and checked Kadira's work before pulling them around the young woman again, turning to his wife. Kadira took a sip of the water, looking out of the window to watch the rain pouring down.

|She needs medication.| Farook said, his voice soft. Kadira nodded slowly and turned to look at him again, the concern in her eyes matching his.

|I know. But we can't exactly walk into a hospital.| she reminded him and watched as he slowly sunk down on the bed, rubbing a hand over his tired features. He had shaved again, the unkempt look disappearing with the stubble on his chin. Kadira put her now empty glass down and pulled her hair up in a messy ponytail, trying to buy time. When she was done, she drew a deep breath.

|We made a mistake.| she said. Immediately, Farook opened his mouth to argue, but she put up her hand, indicating that she was not done yet and he better hear her out. |I didn't mean what happened at the square. That was a mistake, too, but she couldn't have known that she would miss. Anyway, I know who our mark is. And you won't like it.| she told him, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

|Who?| he asked impatiently.

|Mossad Officer Ziva David. Daughter of Director Eli David.| Kadira sighed and cringed at the loud string of curses Farook let out. He raked a hand through his dark mess of hair, continuing to curse silently. Kadira watched him, trying to figure out if he would abandon the mission after learning who their mark was.

|What do we do now?| he asked her, visibly shaken. Kadira shrugged.

|Your decision. Either we call this off, and try to get out of the country before every airport has our pictures with the terrorism-threat, or we stay and try to take her out. Either way, whatever we do, Layla needs medical attention. We need to find a drug store, get more painkillers and new supplies to change the dressing. And some antiseptic.| she said. Her husband slowly nodded.

|Okay. Who do you think they are putting more effort on finding, you or me?| he wanted to know. Kadira frowned slightly.

|All three of us. Why are you asking?| she wanted to know, not seeing the point in this discussion.

|We need to get in contact with Hamas, let them know what happened. And while one does that, the other one could get what Layla needs from the drug store.| Farook said, turning to the young woman when she started tossing and turning in her sleep. |Sh, it's okay, you're safe. Wake up, Layla. Come on, open your eyes.| he asked her softly, stroking her damp hair. A sad smile formed on Kadira's lips. Had he done this a day ago, she would have been jealous of the girl. But now it was only brotherly affection and concern that showed in his actions. Layla opened her eyes, and looked around wildly before slowly focussing on him.

|Hurts.| she whispered, her voice hoarse. Farook took the glass that sat on the bedside table and held her head as she drank the water.

|Sorry, we don't have any pills left.| he apologized when Layla let her head fall on the pillow again, groaning as she moved her leg slightly. Kadira pushed herself up from the desk and walked over to them, refilling the glass before offering it to Layla again. Who shook her head and closed her eyes.

|Tired.| Her voice was barely audible, and Kadira and her husband exchanged a worried look. She leant in, whispering into his ear.

|We can't leave her alone like this. You go meet with our contact. Once you return, I'll go and get the meds.| she said, knowing she was right. Layla was in no position to defend herself should anyone find them here. Then again, Kadira wasn't sure what she would do if they were ambushed while Farook was out. Or even if it were to happen now. In her current state, they would have to leave Layla behind, which was the last thing Kadira wanted to do.

|You go first. She needs the meds, we can meet with Aman later.| Farook decided, kissing her goodbye as she got up, grabbed her purse and gun and quickly left the room in search of a drug store, not sure what she was going to buy.

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_Reviews? Pretty please?_

_And again, feel free to point out mistakes in word choice and/or grammatical errors. I don't get offended by it, and it would really help._


	6. Chapter 6

_As promised the second chapter for this weekend. Enjoy!_

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An hour later, Kadira cursed the fact that they had had to ditch both of their cars and not managed to get a new one so far. She had been walking for what felt like eternity, and every time she saw a police officer, her heart had pounded in her chest at the speed of light. Finally she found a drug store that was a little hidden from public view and had enough distance to the motel that she found she could risk going in there, even if there were security cameras. Walking in, she swallowed, grabbed a basket and made her way along the aisles. And cursed silently again. Her English was good, better than Farook's, and if she spoke, people most of the time were only able to make out the hint of an accent, but could not place it. Medical vocabulary, however, had not been taught to her. So she was forced to read her way through most of the descriptions on the bottles to find out what their content could be used for, and which she needed to get.

Finally she found what she needed and went to the next aisle when she caught a flash of dark brown hair. She quickly went back to her aisle, and bend around the corner, her eyes scanning the neighboring one. And her heart sank.

Ziva was there. With the other guy from the back alley. This was so her luck, that she would run into her mark when trying to get medical supplies for the team member that had been wounded. Her fingers brushed her gun, and she mentally thanked Farook who had had the sense to grab the ammunition from his car before he ditched it. At least she had a full clip today.

Kadira struggled with herself. She could fire at Ziva now. And would probably finish the job. The problem, however, was that Layla still needed the medication. If she shot Ziva now, her partner would no doubt call reinforcement and chase her to hell and back. She did not know the area surrounding the drug store, did not know any hiding places to sit this out. And she would not be able to return to the motel or inform Farook of what had happened. Damn. What was probably worse was that the two of them were blocking the aisle with the painkillers. Kadira was barely able to resist the urge to bang her head against one of the shelves.

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_Review? Pretty please?_

_I know it's rather short. Maybe I'll add another one on Wednesday, not sure. I'll definitely update on the weekend.  
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	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for not adding anything on Wednesday. Uni has been hell. And then I went through all of the chapters for this story and realized that some were in the wrong order. Now I'll shut up and leave you to read. Enjoy._

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Ziva David wanted to strangle her partner. Why on earth did he have to go clubbing when he _knew_ they had to come to work the next day? And why did he not think to have some painkillers in his desk or at home? Anthony DiNozzo would pay for this.

"Can you not just grab something? You do not need me here." she hissed at him when he scanned the shelves.

"I may not need you here, Zee-vah, but I value my life. You heard Gibbs, as long as the Trio Infernale is not locked away safely; you are not be left alone at any point in time. If something happened to you, Gibbs would kill me, and then personally kick my butt to hell." her partner joked, flashing a grin at her. Ziva almost smiled back at the image his words created, but suddenly she felt like she was being watched. Her smile faltered, her hand going to her gun on instinct, brushing the cool metal. Tony watched her, frowning.

"Something wrong?" he asked her, his voice low. Ziva went to shake her head, but then decided against it.

"When I first came here, you remember? The case we had, with the guy in the coffin from the Civil War?" she asked Tony, looking around on full alert. Tony nodded. "When McGee and I went to that bank, I had the feeling of being watched. I shrugged it off because I thought it was just still me getting used to crowded places in the US. But I was right, we were being watched. When we went out-"

"The guy held you at gunpoint, demanded the map and pushed you in the pool." Tony finished for her. Ziva nodded.

"I have the same feeling now." she told him. Immediately, Tony took his sunglasses off and unholstered his gun. He opened Ziva's jacket slightly and was relieved to find she had actually followed the Director's orders and was wearing a bulletproof vest.

"We're out of here. Come on, you go first, I've got your back." he told her. Ziva hesitated and shook her head.

"What if they are waiting outside?" she whispered. Her partner frowned at her before cursing softly. Tony had not considered that possibility. He had thought that whoever was watching them would have followed them into the store, not be waiting outside to strike. He nodded to Ziva's gun and she took it out, while he holstered his, pulling a few bills from his wallet and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol off the shelf.

"What are you doing?" Ziva hissed at him when he took out his badge, too.

"We'll find a shop assistant, and use the back door. Or do you have a better idea?" he asked her. Ziva opened her mouth to protest, but then shrugged. He had a point, if they were waiting for them outside, she did not want to be trapped in here, waiting for them to get themselves killed.

When they had found the shop assistant, and Tony paid them, Ziva took a look around the shop. She heard another assistant ask a customer, and turned her back, nodding her thanks to the assistant as he told them to just use the door since it was open and the alarm turned off. When she heard the other customer answer the assistant, Ziva froze in her steps, her hand shooting out to stop Tony from walking into the direction of the exit - and the voice.

"What's wrong now?" Tony asked, but Ziva put her index finger to her lips, shushing him. She turned her head slightly, hoping to catch more of the conversation. It was held in English, but Ziva could detect an Arabic accent, making the English words sound harsher and a little clipped. And what was more important, she recognized the voice. A feeling of warmth flooded her, before she realized that Kadira had no intention whatsoever to have a family reunion, and the hug she would get would be more so the Palestine woman could stab her than out of affection. Ziva opened her mouth, but one look at her partner, and she knew that she could not wave this off. She would expose him to the threat, too, not just herself. And she would do anything to protect Tony.

An answer from her, however, was unnecessary. Tony himself had heard the voice, not recognizing it, but the accent was familiar. He knew they were in deep trouble. Chances were the woman from the alley had not noticed them yet, and they still had the factor of surprise on their side. Then again, while Ziva had been trained by Mossad, she had grown up in Gaza. Were it was an essential skill to quickly estimate your surroundings and figure out routes of escape. No, she knew perfectly well that Ziva and he were here. Otherwise she would speak louder. Tony drew his gun and turned the safety off, ready to shoot at first sight.

"Tony..." Ziva whispered, her eyes pleading with him. From what she had said in the squad room, and the way she had broken down in front of them it was clear how much the young woman had once meant to her. He could understand that Ziva wanted to protect her to some degree. But she was an international terrorist. Who apparently was on a mission to kill Ziva. No, he would not protect anyone if that meant risking Ziva's life. Not in a thousand years.

So he shook his head at her, putting his index finger on his lips. He inched forward, steeling a glance at the aisle they both had been in shortly before, quickly assessing the situation. A female woman, late thirties, clad in one of the uniforms belonging to the drug store was talking to another younger woman clad in jeans and a dark shirt. She had her dark hair up in a ponytail. When Tony wanted to withdraw, she turned her head slightly, and their gazes locked. Shit.

"NCIS, freeze!" Tony shouted, stepping into the aisle, his gun pointing at the woman. The assistant screamed and dropped to the ground. Kadira sported a slight frown, irritated by the other woman's reaction. She glanced down at her, causing Tony to follow her line of sight. Which was long enough for her to draw her own weapon.

"Checkmate." she said, her accent making the word sound foreign to Tony's ears. He could not resist the small smirk that came to his lips.

"I not stupid. I seen her." Kadira said, quick to make Tony realize that she had indeed spotted both of them, Ziva and him. And deciding against using proper English. There was no reason in having him know that with an effort, she could keep the accent out of her voice almost completely, and form grammatically correct sentences. No need to give them a better description of her for the motels and police to watch out for. As far as she was aware of, Ziva had no idea of how good or bad her English and other language skills were, one advantage of the lack of contact over the last few years.

"Please. Please, let me go." the shop assistant whined, and Tony was tempted just to shoot her because she got on his nerves. Kadira kicked to her side, hitting the woman in the stomach, the message very clear. Shut up, or this is the last thing you have said. In the distances, a police siren could be heard. Kadira backed out of the aisle slowly, her eyes trimmed on Tony. Who was wondering where Ziva had disappeared to. When Kadira turned, he decided it didn't matter, and shot at her. The young woman, having anticipated his reaction, was too quick and ducked out of the line of the bullet. When she reached the door, she smacked right into a lithe figure, causing them both to drop to the ground. Her eyes locked with those of Ziva, both women freezing in place. Kadira stared before grabbing the supplies she had dropped, and sprinting out of the drug store, leaving Ziva to stare after her, gun drawn, unable to pull the trigger.

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Review? Pretty please?_


	8. Chapter 8

_I should be writing an essay on one of the women in Parzival. Instead, I am on here, updating and reading. Plus, I just realized that I will not be able to update next weekend because of me not being home, or rather, because of me **being** home. Confusing, I know. Anyways, there are two options: Either I update with a new chapter tomorrow and leave you hanging until December 5th, or I update in the middle of the week, i.e. November 25th/26th. Your choice, you can put the one you prefer in your review._

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Jennifer Shepard had had to put up with a lot of things during her career. Men that thought women were supposed to be good looking assets, not the ones leading an investigation. Drunks that grabbed her ass while she was undercover during a mission. Other directors that thought of her as emotional and were only waiting for her to quit her job. But an agent that let a terrorist escape when said terrorist's mission was to kill the agent in question? That had to be a first. One time she could forgive. Ziva had been surprised to see the half-sister of her dead brother in the alley and not had time to react. But a second time? That was just plain stupid, bordering on suicidal.

"_What on earth is wrong with you?_" Gibbs yelled at the Mossad officer, while Jen stood back, watching him, not in the mood to interfere. As much as she pitied Ziva for having to make the decision, Kadira could _not_ live. As long as she was out on the street, she was an immense threat to anyone on Team Gibbs, not just Ziva. Jen had dealt with enough terrorists to know that if they could not get to their target directly, they would start taking out those that mattered the most to them. And in this case, it was Tony, McGee, Abby, Gibbs and herself, though she doubted that she was in that much danger herself. No, more likely they would go after Tony first, because he meant the most to Ziva. Or possibly Abby, who did not have any field training. Jen made a quick mental note to arrange for extra security for the forensic scientist.

Ziva just stared ahead, her jaw set, eyes unseeing, gaze fixed on a point on Jen's office wall. Jen heaved a small sigh and pushed away from the wall she had been leaning up against.

"Ziva, look at me." she asked the Mossad liasion, waiting until Ziva slowly turned her head, glaring at her. "If this were only about you, I would not have a problem with your decision. But this is not just about you, Ziva. Listen to me, Goddamit!" Jen yelled, as Ziva rolled her eyes slightly. She walked over to her, taking Gibbs' place right on front of her, invading her personal space, something she knew Ziva hated like nothing else. Screw the pride of the Israeli, this was too important that Jen could avoid stepping on her toes. If it helped to get heer point across, she would do it.

"Their target may be you. But you know just as well as I do that if they can't get to you directly, they will turn against those close to your heart. Do you really want something to happen to Abby? To McGee? Or Gibbs? Or me? Or to DiNozzo? You work together with those people, Ziva. It's your responsibility to keep them safe, just as it is mine. Now I don't want to do this, but you don't leave me much of a choice. I'm ordering you, the next time you see Kadira Esfiri, you will not hesitate to take action. She will not escape a third time, Ziva. Have I made myself clear?" Jen asked, her eyes hard, her voice stern. Ziva blinked, before shaking her head.

"Ziva-" Jen started again, but Ziva took a step back from her. Her hand went to her belt, where she kept her badge and gun. Pulling the latter from the holster, she took the clip out. Wordlessly, she placed her gun and clip on Jen's desk, then retrieved her badge, and put it next to her weapon. She looked at Gibbs, and then back at Jen, before giving a curt nod and leaving her office. Jen just stared at the closing door, unable to react, not knowing what to do.

"She did not just resign. Tell me she did not just hand in her gun and badge?!" Jen turned to Gibbs, panic etched across her face, her voice shrill even to her own ears. He just rubbed a hand over his face, as much at a loss as his old partner, now turned boss was. Loyalty was important to Ziva, he had always known that. But why she was loyal to a person that wanted to take her out was beyond him.

"Jethro..." Jen whispered, turning her head, staring at Ziva's gun. How was she to protect her friend when she did not belong to NCIS anymore? When she actually had terminated her liaison position? Would she tell her father? Or leave it to Jen to deal with Director David, the man that made Jen want to strangle someone, preferably him, whenever she had to speak to him? Jen felt fury and anger rising inside her, and quickly latched onto the feeling. She could deal with anger. She could use a bit of her fury, direct it to the task at hand. Everything was better than the tears that had welled up in her eyes seconds ago, the fear she had felt bubbling under the surface. Fear was paralyzing. Anger on the other hand forced her to take action.

"Protective custody." Jethro said. Jen snapped her head back up, looking at him, her brows furrowed. "You wanna protect her, that's the only way I can think of." he added, shrugging.

"And you don't? You're acting as if that's none of your business!" she yelled at him, suddenly furious. He had driven her away. He had yelled at her, he had made Ziva draw her walls back up. Instead of trying to coax her into telling them what was wrong, he had made her angry, and Jen had taken his lead against her better judgment. Damn him. Damn his influence on her actions.

"It isn't, not anymore." Gibbs said, turning around as she walked to her desk. Jen glared at him, clenching her fists. Suddenly, she felt like she was about to explode. She quickly grabbed the empty glass that sat on her desk and smashed it against the wall.

"Like hell it isn't!" she screamed, whirling around as his hand touched her shoulder. She pushed him back, making him stumble backwards.

"She was your agent! Part of your team! You don't care if she lives or dies!" Jen yelled, hitting his chest, blindly smacking against him, her fists clenched. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She felt so powerless, so small and helpless. Like she could do nothing to change things, and it scared her. It scared her to realize that there was a real chance of losing Ziva, losing one of the best friends she had ever had. And it would be her fault, because she could not protect her, because she had driven her away, because she had refused to listen to her, refused to let her explain herself. She had acted without thinking, and it would cost her one of the few people she trusted her life with.

She felt Jethro's arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as the first sobs escaped her. He pulled her against his chest, his hand reaching up, tangling in her hair, pulling her head against his chest. He softly kissed her red curls, murmuring words of comfort as he rocked her slowly, providing much needed comfort. And Jen closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest, crying over mistakes, past and present.

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_Yes, OOC for Jen, I know. But there was something between her and Ziva in the first episodes of S3 that was never explained, some kind of bond/attachment that I doubt would have been on Ziva's side simply because she saved Jen's life. There was more than we were told. And I'm a Jibbs-shipper, perhaps I was just looking for a way to get Gibbs to comfort her, hehe._


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry for the delay. Or not, depending on your time zone. Thought I would have this up this morning, but life got in the way. Feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy!_

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Typing away on his keyboard, Tim McGee was a little surprised to find that Ziva ran down the steps from the Director's office and after grabbing her backpack, made a run for the elevator. He looked at Tony questioningly, who was on the phone. The two Special Agents exchanged looks, both not knowing what was going on.

When the Director of NCIS and Gibbs came into the squad room with solemn faces, Tim's confusion transformed into a face of worry.

Their boss walked over to his desk, dialing a number on the phone.

"Goddammit, Ziver! Call me back as soon as you get this. This is not over yet!" he yelled into the speaker and slammed it down on the cradle, causing the other three people to wince.

"Boss?" DiNozzo asked, hanging up the phone himself. Tim stopped typing and looked at Gibbs. When he did not say anything, he focused on the Director.

"Officer David has resigned her position at NCIS." Jen slowly said, walking over to Ziva's desk and sitting down at her computer, beginning to search through some of the documents.

"WHAT?!" Tony yelled, jumping up from his seat. Jen looked at him briefly.

"She handed in her badge and gun, DiNozzo. She's not working for NCIS any more." she told him matter-of-factly, pinching the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to get her headache under control.

"But, Ma'am, that means we... she, well, uhm-" McGee stammered.

"I know what that means, Special Agent McGee!" Jen snapped at him. When she saw his shocked expression, she immediately regretted her outburst. He wasn't Jethro, Tim was the youngest on the team, the one that needed the most protection and empathy. Yelling at him would do nothing to ease the situation, he deserved better than that. Getting up, she walked around Ziva's desk.

"I am sorry, McGee. It's just... We are talking about Ziva here. If she does not want to be found, we will not be able to find her. And we know how she can be sometimes. She could be doing something very stupid." Jen apologized. Her mind flashed back to Cairo, to the crowded streets, the heat, the hail of bullets around them. If it had not been for Ziva's recklessness back then, she would be dead now. But that did not mean that her tendency to act on reflexes and impulses would not backfire at one point. She had endangered her own life in saving Jenny, and as grateful as Jen was for that, she had always wondered if Ziva had been fully assessing the situation they had been in at the time. Chances were she did not, and was doing the same thing again, seeing what she wanted to do, trying to find a way to do it, and not really paying attention to what could go wrong.

"Yeah, like protecting a terrorist that's after her." Gibbs said, breaking Jen from her thoughts.

"_You_ were the one yelling at her first!" Jen defended herself, crossing her arms over her chest. Gibbs straightened, his blue eyes piercing into hers.

"I wasn't the one ordering her to kill someone she loves." he told her calmly. Jen tried to hold his stare, tried not to back down, but ultimately couldn't. She blinked and looked away. Great. Being Director of NCIS had always come with sacrifices, but now she had just lost one of her best friends and made a horrible professional mistake. There had to be a way to make this right again. He was right, they should arrest her. Put her into protective custody, talk some sense into her. Make her see that the person she had once known did not exist any more, that a killer had taken her place.

"McGee, can you trace her cell phone?" Jen asked, turning to the younger agent. He blinked, then started typing furiously on his keyboard.

"We should check out her apartment, maybe she went there." DiNozzo said, starting to dial her number, thinking that maybe she was just avoiding Gibbs and would talk to him.

"That's weird." McGee said from his computer, looking up at his Boss and the Director. "I can't get a trace. Even if the cell's turned off, it should be possible to trace it. Unless she's in a structure interfering with the reception. But she just left a few minutes ago, she couldn't have gotten far..." Confusion was etched on his face as Jen and Gibbs exchanged looks.

"Ziva's driving skills? Oh, she could have gotten pretty far by now." Jen sighed.

"Ziva, it's me, Tony. Please call me back, either at NCIS or on my cell, no matter when you get the message. We're worried. I'm worried." Tony said, hanging up. Getting up, he stood next to the Director.

"Not answering to my calls, either." he told her. Jen closed her eyes briefly.

"McGee, stop the trace." she ordered quietly. The three men stared at her in shock. "She has removed the battery from her cell phone and dumped it somewhere. We're not going to find her this way." Jen said, turning around and starting to dial a long number.

"This is Director Jenny Shepard of NCIS. It's an emergency." she told whoever was on the other end of the line. Gibbs walked around the desk so he could look at her, and he saw the worry in Jen's eyes. Not breaking her gaze away, she said the words that made Gibbs' blood run cold.

"Shalom, Eli."

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_Review? Pretty Please?_


	10. Chapter 10

The first time Ziva had turned her back on the rules and thrown all caution into the wind had been when she was twenty. For two months, she had disappeared from the Mossad radar, hunting down every single person that had anything to do with the suicide bombing that had cost the life of her little sister. She had been out on a mission, damned be the consequences. And she had not given up until she had killed the last person that had known about the bombing beforehand. It was her idea of family and loyalty. You do not mess with someone's family. If someone hurts your family, you hunt them down and inflict pain on them. Because they deserve it more than anybody else.

If that was true, then Kadira had a good reason to be after her. And Ziva wondered, not for the first time, if the Palestinian knew who had really killed Ari Haswari. Who had been the one to pull the trigger that night in the basement. If she did, then it was a sheer miracle that Ziva was still alive.

Back in Jenny's office, she had acted on an impulse. She did not want to die, no. But at one point, she had thought that she deserved to. When she had looked into Kadira's eyes at Ari's funeral, seen the sadness and grief in them, the questions and underlying accusations, Ziva had taken a step back. And asked herself what a monster she had become, what kind of person her father had raised her to be. She had killed her own brother without hesitation, for a stranger. Because it had been an order. Because she had not paused long enough to find an alternative, to find a way around this. Because she had thought it was inevitable. And then, two years later, she had said that nothing was inevitable. Nothing was set in stone; the only person responsible for one's destiny was oneself.

Ziva knew that handing in her gun and badge had been foolish. She was no longer the Mossad liaison to NCIS. They would not come to her rescue. But she had figured that if they were not coming to her rescue, they would also stop hunting down Kadira. Until Ziva found a way to contact the girl, to talk to her, figure something out.

She had had to hand in her badge. Because Jen's order had been one Ziva knew she would not be able to obey. And she preferred walking away with her reputation and image intact.

She knew that if confronted with Kadira again, face to face, she would not be able to pull the trigger on the Hamas terrorist. Because as much as she had changed, Ziva still saw the young girl that had laughed along with Tali in the rain.

Because you could not chose who you loved. You just did. And when you did, you were damned, no matter what.

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_Sorry for the delay. Life's a rollercoaster right now._


	11. Chapter 11

_Sincere apologies for the delay. And we continue with the chapter I really don't like. Meh._

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Seven hours later, Kadira stood in another motel room just outside of Washington D.C., putting a cool cloth on Layla's forehead. Leaning back, she rubbed a hand over her tired features. It had taken two hours to make sure she had lost the cops and return to the motel. They had immediately changed motels after she had told Farook of her run-in with Ziva and her partner. Afterwards, he had left for contacting Aman, their control officer for the mission. And while Kadira wanted him to return soon, she was afraid of what he would say. She had a horrible feeling, watching Layla toss and turn in her sleep, her soft moans filling the silence, making Kadira want to knock her out. She really needed a doctor. But taking her to a hospital was out of the question. When Kadira had turned on the TV, she had been slightly surprised not to find her face on every channel. NCIS was probably trying to keep this low profile, in order to not scare the public too much. Though it was only a question of when they would turn to the media, not if they would.

A louder moan caused Kadira to look at Layla again, and found the younger woman slowly opening her eyes, straining to focus on her surroundings.

|Sh, it's okay, you're safe here. We switched motels, it's alright.| Kadira said as the girl began to struggle to sit up when she did not recognize the room. Her eyes settled on Kadira, frowning, then relaxing again. Apparently she recognized her.

|Where's Farook?| Layla asked, her voice hoarse. Instead of answering, Kadira leaned forward, and grabbed a glass of water, helping Layla with holding her head up while the girl gulped down the liquid, trying to make up for the amount of fluid she had already lost with her blood and the sweat that trickled down her face.

|More?| Kadira asked simply, refilling the glass when Layla nodded silently. After finishing off that one, too, the younger woman leaned back, her head hitting the pillow, her eyes drifting shut again. Kadira let her mind wander back to the drug store. Her second run-in with Ziva. And again she had found herself incapable of killing her. Even though the mission was crystal clear, she had found herself hesitating. And was slightly surprised that Ziva herself had not tried to do anything herself. The person Kadira had known would not have hesitated one second before putting a bullet through her head. Maybe she was just as confused as Kadira was. But somehow, Kadira thought it went deeper.

She had never let herself feel anything when killing one of their targets. They had it coming. Killing innocent children in Gaza was a death sentence in her opinion. On her first mission for Hamas, Kadira had felt a deep satisfaction blowing the lights out of an Israeli soldier who had given orders for a rocket launch that had hit a school, killing twelve children and their two teachers. It had felt good, it had been a way to relieve some of her anger and fury over Ari's death. There had only been one time that Kadira had hesitated shortly. She had followed a Mossad agent for two weeks in France, and finally an opportunity had presented itself. When she had seen the picture of a little boy in the hotel room she had rounded her victim in, she had felt a tinge of regret, remembering how hard it had been for her to lose her mother at the same age. But then she had remembered that Mossad itself had been responsible for her own loss, and pulled the trigger, robbing a boy barely old enough to go to school of his mother.

Unbestknown to her, it had been the final test of trust for her. If she had not killed the target, Hamas would have eliminated her, finding her unable to overcome her own feelings and posing a threat to Hamas itself. But she had passed the test with flying colors, proving her loyalty once and for all.

This mission should have been the final test for Layla. And while Kadira had been proud of the young girl a few days before, she now found herself wondering if she would survive the ordeal, or if her second mission for Hamas would be her last. It had already cost Amir his life. Suddenly overcome with sadness and grief, Kadira closed her eyes. And saw hiss sparkling eyes, heard his carefree laughter when they had been in Paris, shortly after she had killed the Mossad agent with the son. They had run through the city center, playing hide and seek in the shadows. He had been one of her closest friends, along with Farook he had been her world, her family. Much as Layla was, too. And now he was gone, and she was faced with the possibility of losing the young woman, too. The sister she saw in her, the way she reminded her of Tali and their time in Tel Aviv together.

Kadira opened her eyes again, and found Layla watching her, a smile tugging on her lips. Kadira raised her eyebrow at the younger woman, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from her face. She had been younger than Tali, yes. But in her memory, Tali had stopped aging at 16, when she died. The age at which she had first met Layla. The resemblance between the two had been almost creepy. If it had not been for their native language and faith, they could have been the same person, the look in Layla's eyes had been the same that Tali's had always held, playfullness and joy, with just a little bit of worry. And the sound of Layla's laughter had instantly warmed Kadira's heart, putting her at ease around the girl.

|Stop frowning, you'll get wrinkles.| Layla joked, her voice stronger than minutes before. Maybe the medication was finally kicking in. Despite herself, Kadira allowed herself a small laugh at the girl's antics, and kissed her forehead softly, stroking her cheek when she leaned back again.

|I'm sorry, Kadi. So sorry.| she apologized, tears glistening in her eyes. Kadira shook her head vehemently.

|Not your fault. We did not know who we were dealing with. If it had not been you that had fired, it would have been one of us. The outcome would most likely have been the same. Don't worry, concentrate on getting better.| she said. Layla shifted her legs and shut her eyes tightly, a groan escaping her lips.

|How bad?| she asked through clenched teeth, moving her injured leg again, and biting down on her hand to keep from screaming out loud.

|The bullet went straight through. I'm not sure, Amir would have been able to give a better answer. We think it's infected, hence the antiseptic I put on earlier. You were lucky that it didn't nick any major artery.| she told her truthfully. She had never been one to appreciate lies or sugarcoated answers and found that Layla deserved the truth. At least as much of it that Kadira was sure she could stomach. She saw the younger woman struggle with keeping her eyes open, and a soft smile came to her lips.

|It's okay, close your eyes, rest, get some sleep. I'll be right here.| she assured her. Layla slowly nodded and gave in to the heavy tug of sleep.

_

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TBC_


	12. Chapter 12

_Again, I am sorry for the delay. Though I wonder if anyone is still reading this. Hence my reluctance to post the rest, if no one is reading, I could take the story down. But since I do not like it when authors do that, I have decided to publish the remaining chapters. More or less in one batch. This update has the chapers 12 to 17. I will try to post the next remaining chapters next week._

_

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_Forensic Scientist Abby Sciuto had always liked Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He had been like a father to her. She had always come to him when she had had problems. Other than that one time when some creepy guy had been stalking her. But then she had not gone to Gibbs out of fear for the poor stalker. Because she knew that for Gibbs, his team was family. And Lord help the person that dared to hurt one of their own.

She had also liked his rules. And after a few years of working with him, she had come up with a few rules of her own. Not Gibbs' Rules. Not Tony's Rules. No, Abby's Rules. Rule Number 1: Never lie to Abby. Rule Number 2: The Team is family. And no one hurts the family.

She was furious. At Ziva, for not trusting them, for not telling them that Haswari had had another sister that could come after them. After all, Gibbs had shot Ari. It could have been that the girl would go after her silver haired fox! Ziva had not found them trustworthy enough. And then, when the opportunity to eliminate the risk presented itself, she hesitated. She let the crazy Hamas assassin escape! Not once, but _twice_!

She should have come to them. She should have told them immediately what was going on, the second she had recognized Esfiri. But no, she had tried not to give them an answer to their questions, she had tried to _protect _that woman. Of all people, Ziva should know what happened if you protected a terrorist.

But then again, it made sense. To Abby, it did. Because to the Mossad assasin, the Hamas terrorist was family. And you stand up for your family. You protect them. You put your life on the line for them.

Abby just hoped that Ziva was not really thinking about making the ultimate sacrifice for the Palestine woman.

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_TBC_


	13. Chapter 13

Ten years ago, Eli David had been the father of three children. A son that resent him, and two daughters, one of which was trying so hard to gain his attention and pride and another that loved her family and friends more than was good for her. Now he had only one child left. Ziva, his eldest daughter, middle child, eternal referee. Stuck in the middle. When Ari had showed very little emotion and Tali had had too many, Ziva was smack in the middle. She could be so loving at times, and then all of a sudden ice cold. Calm and the next minute raging with anger and fury. The one that was most like him, and so different at the same time. They did what they thought was best, and sometimes regretted their actions.

Now his daughter hated him for what he had done with Ari. She resent him for using her. And he was afraid that she was going to die.

He had never regarded Kadira Haswari as part of his family, and never really been able to understand the deep affection that Ari as well as his two daughters had for the girl, especially since Ziva and Tali were not related to her in any way. She had been a nuisance, and he had been glad when her father had not wanted her to stay with her brother but wanted her back in Gaza. In secret, he had been hoping that maybe, she would be killed. Teach Tali and Ziva a lesson more, not to care too much for people when it was not necessary. But in the chaos that was Gaza City, Kadira had survived, when his own daughter had died in what should have been the safety of Tel Aviv.

When Ari died, he had wanted Kadira to stay and join Mossad. He had an eerie feeling about the girl, the young woman. He had seen something in her eyes when he had thrown out old pictures and belongings of his son, something that caused him goosebumps. The way she had refused to take of her hijab at the cemetery, the way she had stood in front of him, her chin raised proudly, always meeting his eyes, and the way she had answered only in Arabic, at least to him, had made him see the fire in the young woman, a passion in her eyes that rivaled Ziva's. He had seen a determination in her eyes that made him realize she would be a great agent for Mossad. And the danger it would pose if she decided to join the other side. He should have had her monitored more closely. He should have had her taken in custody. He should have offered to pay for her education in Israel. Anything she could have possibly wanted, he should have done it. Maybe if he had, Kadira would not be going after his only remaining child now.

With a sigh, he dialed a familiar number.

*All Mossad agents currently in the US. Mark is a Palestine woman named Kadira Esfiri. There are two other Hamas terrorists with her, a wounded girl and Esfiri's husband, Farook Esfiri. They are wanted for attempted murder of a Mossad agent. Capture them, no matter what.* he said into the receiver before hesitating shortly. Ziva would probably never forgive him if he did this. But what other choice did he have?

*If Esfiri resists, kill her.*

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_TBC_


	14. Chapter 14

MTAC was unusually quiet. Even though most of the time, all conversations were hushed, especially when missions were taking place, this was a different kind of silence. Director Jenny Shepard watched the footage of different security cameras, trying to find a lead on the Hamas terrorist and/or Ziva. Either one, she did not really care. Taking a sip of her glass of bourbon, she closed her eyes for a second. She should not be drinking on the job, not when the things taking place needed her full attention. But a part of her, not the Director part, but the human part, the woman Jennifer, she wanted to get terribly drunk and curl up in bed, sleeping until this mess was over. Her Director side however did not allow for that to happen. She had an agency to run, missions to oversee. Yet here she was, with only one thing on her mind: How to get Ziva out of this mess. How to bring down Kadira and Farook Esfiri and the girl that was with them and how to prevent Mossad Officer Ziva David from making a deadly mistake.

Jen looked down in her lap, her eyes fixed on a shot of the girl. Other than that picture and a small glimpse on airport security footage, they had not found anything on her. Which was extremely strange. It was as if she did not exist at all. Someone hiding in the shadows around her, someone very stealthy, despite her young age.

So far, they had discovered the security footage of Dulles International Airport that had them arriving in the US. Using different names. They had made a great effort not to be watched by anyone, keeping apart, not even looking at each other when they passed the others on the baggage claim. The image of three complete strangers. The outside cameras had picked them up again, walking away from the airport. The dead man had been using a cell phone, McGee had been able to track down the phone records of the area at the time, there were a lot of phone calls made. By sheer luck, Tony had stumbled over the Taxi driver that had taken on Kadira after she left the airport. Contrary to Tony's impression of Kadira's English, the driver had said she had had a slight French accent, but that her English had been flawless otherwise. He had driven her to a district mainly housing small businesses and enterprises, with a lot of abandoned factories. It would take weeks to search all the buildings.

"Want an aspirin?"

Jenny jumped slightly when she heard the voice and Gibbs sat down beside her. She groaned and looked at him. He had always known when a headache was bothering her. And he had also been the only one to really help with her migraines.

"Already had two. I swear, I'm coming down with the mother of all headaches." she said, and was surprised when he took the glass of bourbon from her.

"Then you shouldn't be drinking this." he told her, putting the glass down. "McGee and Tony found a hide out. Seems like it was used recently, perhaps even by them. Maybe they abandoned it, or they'll come back if the noose around their necks gets tighter." he said, watching the screen with interest.

"Where did we go so horribly wrong, Jethro?" Jen asked, her face glued to the plasma screen. "She was my friend. I trusted her, and she trusted me. When did we lose that?" she sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. Gibbs swallowed hard. His heart had constricted when she asked first, for a moment he had thought she was actually talking about him and her, and not her and Ziva.

"It's hard to be friends and the boss at the same time. At one point, you gotta make a choice and stick to it." he shrugged, turning his head slightly to look at her. She seemed so fragile, broken in a way he had rarely ever seen her. To him, she had always been the though woman and sharp agent. The first time she had cried in front of him had almost broken his heart, she had been so vulnerable back then. And he had realized that she was not invincible. Just like Shannon, she could die, with their jobs, the risk was even higher. So he had started to withdraw from her, lock her out of his heart again, in order to protect himself against the pain he would feel if he lost her. Ironically, it was what had driven them apart in the end. Jen's plan to rise higher in the chain of agents, and his inability to open up to her. But he had never told her how big of a piece of his heart she had held and still did. He had never been able to admit that despite his best efforts, he could not stop himself from loving her so much that it hurt to be apart even for the shortest time. When she had walked out on him, she had broken his heart, and he had done what he had done after Shannon's death. He had married Stephanie in an attempt to get over Jen and recreate what they had had just like he had married Diane to get over Shannon.

"Sometimes I wonder if this-," Jen started and made a gesture that included the room, "-if this is worth it. Sometimes it feels like I gave up too much and gained too little." She looked at him briefly, sadness in her emerald eyes, the women Jennifer shining through before the mask of Director Shepard slipped back in place, and she stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, again watching the camera footage with interest. As quick and unexpected as it had come, the moment was gone. And Gibbs stood himself and walked out of MTAC quietly, leaving her to ponder her decisions and their cost.

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_TBC_


	15. Chapter 15

Punching in the number into the phone, Ziva took a deep breath. She had hoped for a less crowded room, but had not had any such luck. At least she had enough change to feed the payphone for a while.

"Ken?"

She closed her eyes briefly as the voice carried over the line, swallowing. Too long since she had last heard his voice, too long since she had seen him, too long since she had last touched him, too long since she had last felt his lips on hers, felt their bodies moving together.

"Shalom, Michael." Ziva whispered, closing her eyes again against the onslaught of tears.

*Ziva, where on earth are you? Shepard called Mossad, saying that you have terminated your liaison position and that a crazy terrorist is after you. Your father's going crazy!* MIchael hissed into the phone. Apparently, she had caught him in a public place.

*I cannot really talk right now, Michael. I need to see you. Someplace safe. I'll explain then.* Ziva said, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped her control.

*Ziva...* he started, and then decided to switch tracks. He had to see her; he had to make sure she was okay, even if it jeopardized his own mission. *We'll use the safehouse. You still have the key?*

*Yes, I do. See you there.* Ziva nodded, and then hung up. She forced herself not to run out of the bar, but to take slow, deliberate steps. Outside, she glanced at her car, hesitating. Chances were that Jen was looking for some way to search for her. There would be a BOLO out on her car; she needed to find another one. Or call a cab. Damn.

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_Yes, it's Michael Rivkin. Sue me._

_TBC  
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	16. Chapter 16

As far as he was concerned, Michael Rivkin had seen through Eli David's scheme of pairing him up with his daughter. They had known each other for a long time, and before she had went to the US as Ari's control officer, they had been contemplating crossing the friendship line. But then Ari got killed, and Ziva had changed a lot. The years she spent in America had changed her. And Michael was glad of Shepard's close brush with death and Ziva having to go back to Israel. He had missed her terribly, and working with her again had caused the old feelings of love and longing to resurface. Morocco had been terrible for him, seeing her wounded and knowing that he could have lost her that night... He swore that he would not let another day pass without telling her how he felt. And while she had been reluctant at first, their relationship had grown. Even after she had returned to the US, they had kept in contact, meeting in Israel before he had gotten his undercover assignment.

And now Ziva was in deep trouble. And for once, he was glad that he was already in Washington. He did not like the US too much; the people here were shallow, hypocritical and often too emotional, but the chance to be there for her was worth it. Even though he would be very glad when this assignment was over.

Ziva had mentioned Kadira briefly when they had first been partners during their early missions. He had gotten the feeling that she cared for the girl and wanted to help her, but did not know how. And he did not really understand it. They were not related, and Kadira had a father that was looking after her. She did not need to worry for someone that was not part of her family. And now the girl she cared about was trying to kill her. That was not the Ziva he knew, his Ziva would not resign her liasion position, his Ziva would fight for her life and take out those who threatened it.

Then again, he had never seen her when her life was threatened by someone that was family. And he was not sure he wanted to. As much as he liked the image of her being a strong warrior, he knew she cared deeply for people once they managed to sneak past her defenses. And while he was glad that he was apparently one of them, it posed a problem right now.

When he reached the safe house, he did not see any signs of a car. Entering it with his gun drawn, he found Ziva sitting on the couch in the living room, her face in her hands. When she heard him, she turned around, reaching for her weapon. Recognizing him, tears started to form in her eyes, and she flung herself at him, crying and sobbing into his chest. Michael droped his gun and hugged her tight, stroking her hair and softly kissing her forehead, whispering words of comfort, affection and love. And he felt a hate for the Hamas terrorist that had resolved the strong woman he knew into a sobbing bundle in his arms. And Michael Rivkin swore that he would do everything to make the pain end for Ziva. Even more so if it meant taking down a member of Hamas.

* * *

_TBC_


	17. Chapter 17

_Please note that today's update included the chapters 12 to 17. If you have not already read those, I suggest going back and doing so._

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Kadira's first Hebrew word had been ach. Brother. Ari had taught it to her. She did not remember it, but her father had told her the story. Ari would sit in front of her, for hours on end, repeating "I'm your brother Ari. Who am I?" over and over again. He had set his mind on teaching her perfect Hebrew. To make it easier for her to fit in and blend in when among Israelis. And when she had visited Tali and Ziva shortly before Tali's death, she had taken enormous pride in the fact that everyone seemed to understand her, and the one friend of Tali's that was allowed over to her house when she and Ari had been there was genuinely surprised to learn that Kadira was actually from Gaza and that Arabic was her native language.

Whenever Chanukah drew nearer, Kadira had always counted down the weeks and days, sometimes even hours and minutes until she would see Ari again. Her father had been mad when he had found his Muslim daughter celebrating Chanukah with her Jewish half-brother. It was not that he had a problem with Ari or his faith. He just wanted his daughter to be raised the way he had been. And he had found it a bit strange that year after year, Ari would always return to them for at least two days of Chanukah. Until he had been able to see that for neither Kadira nor Ari, this get together was about Ari's faith. It was about spending time with your family. And while Ari had a family in Israel, a father and two sisters, later only one, that he loved, part of his heart still belonged to Kadira and his step-father. The person that had taught him to walk upright among the other boys, to be proud of his name because it was unique in their immediate circle of friends and not to be embarrassed because it was different.

There had been one Chanukah that Kadira had spent in Israel. She had been fifteen, it was the first Chanukah after Tali's death. Her father had wanted her in the safety of Israel. For the last weeks, the retaliatory strikes at Gaza City had increased, and he had worried about the safety of his daughter and her wellbeing more than ever before. So he had reluctantly taken Ari up on his offer to bring her to the border where Ari picked her up and drove the rest of the way to Tel Aviv.

Chanukah had been a somewhat sad affair that year. Ziva had been mostly silent, sulking, speaking only when answering to questions or snapping at someone. And Eli David had made it perfectly clear that he did not like the idea of a Muslim girl in his house, not during this time of the year, not when he had just lost his beautiful daughter. But in a way, Kadira had enjoyed it. Here she was free of wearing her hijab. She could wander around the huge mansion aimlessly all day until Ari returned from Mossad, and then they played checkers together, or talked. About nothing and everything.

Now, Kadira wondered how she and Ari had managed to be so close. How they had been so tight as brother and sister when they had not really grown up together. How came she knew everything about him. How came she had felt the change in him even when he was in the US. Had been able to read it between the lines in his letters to her, perfect Hebrew, but always signed with Salaam and not Shalom. And not for the first time, Kadira wondered if Ari had been buried at the wrong cemetery. If the traditional Jewish funeral she had not objected to had been wrong. If along with his transition from Mossad to Hamas, Ari had also switched from being Jewish to the Muslim faith.

She missed him. She missed him so much that it often hurt. She missed him even more than her father, and her mother. Growing up in Gaza, loss and grief had been parts of her life as long as she could remember. There was always someone who died, always someone to mourn. But until Ari's death, she had not felt physical pain with the loss of someone she loved.

When Ziva had called her that day, Kadira had known that something was wrong. She was Ari's control officer, he had told her that on his last visit. And Ziva never spoke to her in Arabic, they had always talked in Hebrew. But this time, the Israeli had switched to Arabic and asked Kadira to pack some clothes and be ready in two hours so she could pick her up. The drive back to Tel Aviv had been silent, Kadira had watched the landscape fly past and felt a feeling of dread settle in her gut, cold fingers spreading out through her entire body until all she felt was this. And the moment Ziva had turned off the car in the driveway of their house, Kadira had started to cry. Because Ari had not been there to welcome her. Because he had not called. Because she had realized the truth. Her brother was dead. She was alone now.

And now she sat in a motel room in Washington D.C. and fought to keep the anger and the feeling of betrayal that simmered under the surface in check. Farook was watching her intently, and for the first time she wanted to hit him for not realizing that she'd rather be alone with her thoughts. Slowly she stood and walked over to the window, leaning against the wall, watching the outside world blur in front of her until she saw the reflection of her face in the glass.

Ziva had killed Ari. She had shot him. Not Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. It had been Ziva who had killed her own blood, their blood. Now her being the mark made a lot more sense.

Slowly, Kadira's hand went to the gun strapped to her hip. She let her fingers run over to cool metal and unholstered it. Taking out the clip, she made sure that it was completely loaded, before putting it back in. She pulled the sled back and let it slam forward again, loading her gun. When she turned around to face her husband, determination radiated off her. The next time she ran into Ziva, she would not hesitate again. The next time would be the last. It would end. Tonight.

* * *

_TBC_


	18. Chapter 18

_New batch of chapters. This time** Chapter 18** to **Chapter 23**._

_Before we continue, I have a favor to ask, and a question. Starting with the **question**: Is there anyone reading this that would be **interested in a prequel** of sorts, one that deals with the Kadira/Ari relationship? I have something written, but if nobody is interested, I do not need to take the time to go over it and can leave it as a draft.  
_

_And coming to the **favor**: I have a (perhaps a bit dark in the beginning) **Tiva story of about 5,700 words** for which I need a beta reader. I am not sure about it and would like some input, plus I changed tenses like three times over, and while the story in itself makes sense to me, I have a feeling that it's just a confusing mess of words. The** rating **of that piece is **definitely not M**, rather heavy T._

_Okay, and now I will leave you to read.  
_

_

* * *

_A single drop fell down on the picture in her hand, and Ziva blinked her eyes, a little shocked at the realization that she was crying. She reached out and softly traced the features of the young girl in the picture. It was the only one she had, the only one ever taken with the four of them, Ari, her, Tali and Kadira. Only now did she notice the resemblance between Kadira and Ari, the shape of their noses, the slight slant of their eyes, the tanned color of their skin, still different of her's and Tali's. The full lips of Kadira and Ari, and the dimple when they smiled. And the affection in their eyes when they looked at each other.

As a child, Ziva had sometimes been slightly jealous of the Palestine girl. Because even though Ari gave her most of his attention when they were together, it was Kadira that was always in his thoughts and prayers. Not Ziva, and even not Tali. Kadira, the youngest of his siblings, the one that had to live the hardest life. When Tali died, Ziva had been furious. And part of her blamed Kadira along with every other Palestine. Until she realized that then she would have to blame Ari, too, at least partially. Because he had grown up in Gaza, too. Because his mother had been a Palestine woman, a Muslim woman.

The shrill ring of her cell phone snapped her out of her thoughts. She reached across the stick and found it on the passenger seat. Glancing at the display, she frowned. The number in the display was unfamiliar. Either Tony, Gibbs, McGee, Abby and Jenny were really getting desperate, or someone else was trying to contact her. Deciding it wouldn't matter that much if she hang up before they could trace her, she answered.

"Yes?" Ziva said, glancing down at the picture again.

"Boom." was the only word that was said before Ziva heard the click that signaled the call had been disconnected. She stared at her cell phone in confusion. Why would someone call her and only say-

A loud explosion stopped her train of thought and had her diving for cover behind the sofa. The front door had just been blown to pieces, burning wood flying into the room, coming to rest everywhere. Ziva cursed when her hand felt for her gun and she realized she must have left it on the coffee table. Slowly, she peered around the furniture. And besides a cloud of smoke, she didn't see anything. No one else seemed to be here. Ziva furrowed her brows. That didn't make any sense. Whoever had called her knew of the bomb and that she was in here. The logical conclusion was that it was a member of the same Hamas cell Kadira was part of; perhaps it had even been her. Ziva tried to recall the voice, but didn't come up with much. Female, yes. It could have been her, but she wasn't too sure.

Ziva waited for a few moments before she crawled to the coffee table and took her gun. She stood up, flexing, brushing herself off.

*I should have known.*

Ziva jumped and whirled around, bringing up her gun, pointing directly at Kadira. Who was leaning against what was left of the wall, her arms crossed, her left foot against the wall, supporting her. Ziva blinked as the smoke and dust settled completely. The brief glimpse she had gotten of Kadira in the alley and the drug store had left her with fleeting impressions, but now she was able to watch her more closely. To her surprise, Kadira looked completely relaxed, her gun rested at her right hip, safety in place. The long, dark curls framed her face. In the dim light, her resemblance to Ari was even more prominent. If it weren't for his more pronounced chin and sharp edges of his face and the fact he had been male and was now dead, Ziva would have confused Kadira with her half-brother. Strange, wasn't it? As a child, Ziva had seen the physical resemblance between Ari and their father, and not realized that it wasn't physical features they shared, but the air that had, their way of walking and talking, and the cold look in their eyes. Now it became clear that physically, Kadira resembled her brother more than Ziva ever had and ever would. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, if only her eyes didn't hold so much sadness, grief and anger.

Slowly, Ziva put down her gun and holstered it. Drawing it had been a reflex, anyway. She knew she wouldn't be able to shoot Kadi, not with that look in her eyes, the look Ari had had in Gibbs' basement.

|I was wondering if you could answer a question, Officer David.| Kadira's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Ziva frowned slightly. Hearing Kadira speak Arabic was not new to her, but it was the first time the words had been directed at her. In the past, Kadira had talked in Hebrew, even at Ari's funeral when Eli David had only gotten Arabic answers, the conversations between Ziva and Kadira had still taken place in Hebrew, and only Hebrew. Perhaps she had slipped without noticing, Ziva thought. But her gut told her that it wasn't the case. She had seen Director David as her enemy, and changed to the language she was better able to express herself in. As she did now with Ziva.

*I can try.* Ziva nodded. A soft smile played around Kadira's lips. She pushed herself away from the wall and walked over to Ziva, swinging her hips slowly, almost seductive. Coming to a halt in front of her, Kadira searched her face for a second, before looking into her eyes. The look in those of the younger woman made the hair on Ziva's neck stand up. Kadira leaned forward slightly, her mouth inches from Ziva's ear, her warm breath tickling her.

|Did you have the guts to look him in the eyes when you shot our brother?| she whispered before leaning back only to find Ziva staring at her, her brown eyes wide with shock. How had she found out? But did it even matter how Kadira had found out that it had been her who shot their brother? The fact remained: she knew. And she was not the kind of person to let something like this slide.

|That answers it, I guess.| Kadira said, raising a delicate eyebrow shortly before taking a step away from Ziva, raising her gun, pointing it to the head of the Mossad Officer.

* * *

_TBC_


	19. Chapter 19

The day he had first met Kadira had burned itself into Farook Esfiri's memory. She had caught his attention at once, soft, long and dark hair, flawless skin, almost scarless. And her eyes. A beautiful dark chocolate brown, sparkling with laughter but holding a tinge of sadness at the same time. Their eyes had locked when he passed, and he had felt like he had been looking straight into her heart and vice versa.

He had been doubtful of the concept of soulmates. He figured that sometimes, people found their perfect match, but the times it happened seemed to be extremely rare. Most of the time, they stuck with second best, with safe options. Especially in the area he grew up in, when life was in constant turmoil, you didn't want a complicated relationship on your platter, too. You wanted something steady, something easy and safe. Someone you cared about, but not too much, because they could easily die the next second. Be gone from your life, forever, leaving you to cope without them. His fast falling for the stranger had scared him. His previous girlfriends had been safe choices, though he had always broken it up before it could get too serious. They had been somewhat shallow and naive. The first time he saw Kadira, he already knew she didn't fit their category. He knew instantly that she was different. He saw fire in her eyes, a burning passion. He saw the loss he was familiar with, the pain and grieving of someone that had been left behind when the people they loved the most had passed on. And he understood her feelings before he even knew her name.

She was everything he had ever dreamt of, a mystery full of contrasting ideas. She was passionate yet gentle, sharp minded and strong willed, hot tempered and still patient, loving and caring but distant and cold when she was upset. She was happy to give everything she had and more, and he felt she genuinely loved him, just like he loved her with every fiber of his being, his heart beating to the rhythm of her name.

When she had told him about her childhood, he had seen the fear in her eyes. That he, just like the others, would turn away from her. That he wouldn't want what she had to offer. That he wasn't interested in "damaged goods" as she had put it. It had taken him over an hour to calm her down after he told her he loved her nevertheless, that the past didn't matter to him, that it hadn't been her choice or fault.

The first time he had kissed her, his heart had stopped beating. Her taste had been intoxicating, still was, even after the years they had been together. She tasted like warm summer rain, raspberries and something he couldn't place, something harsher, something that clashed with the sweetness and send his mind reeling.

Their wedding night had been emotional and filled with a lot of tears and whispered "I love you"s. The first time they made love, and the tears on her face had burned themselves into his memory. He had wanted to kill the soldier that had raped her like never before. She had been so afraid and scared her whole body had trembled in fear, not anticipation or lust. He had taken his time to show her how much he loved her, letting her set the pace most of the time, gentle with his touches, soft caresses and loving kisses all over her body until he was sure she could feel it in her heart and soul.

Kadira Esfiri was his soulmate. His heart beat in time with hers, and he knew that if she died, he would, too. Losing her would be too painful. He'd rather die with her than live a single second without her.

They had shared their stories, and Farook had understood why she joined Hamas. She wanted revenge for her brother's death. From her words, he had figured just how much he had really meant to her. He had been her rock, her saviour, even more than her father had been. She had confined in him, counted the days until his next visit. And then he was ripped away from her, just like that. She had wanted to do something that would have made him proud. Deciding against Mossad and joining Hamas had been the right thing to do, not just in her mind. The few times she had mentioned Ziva's name, there had been love in her voice, mixed with a tinge of regret. Though Tali's name had come up more often, and he had felt the deep affection and the sense of loss Kadira had felt.

And now he understood what Kadira had to do. The love she may have once felt for the Mossad assassin had been replaced by hate and fury. She had betrayed their brother, she had killed Ari, and Kadira would never be able to forgive her for that.

* * *

_TBC_


	20. Chapter 20

As much as Tony had tried to deny it in the past, he now had to admit it. The possibility of losing her had showed him just how much she meant to him. He, Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS Special Agent was in love with Mossad Officer Ziva David. But that wasn't what scared him so much. It was the fact that for the first time in his life, he loved a woman more than anything else in the world. And he couldn't imagine living without her ever again. Not to be able to hear her beautiful voice, or see her radiating smile, to experience the way her presence could light up the entire room, or scare suspects into admitting their crimes. The way she was tough and vulnerable at the same times had often left him mesmerized. He wanted to know everything about her, her dreams and desires, her hopes for her future and the shadows of her past. And if she felt the same way about him that he felt about her.

What he knew already, though, was that he couldn't leave her to face this alone. He may not be able to understand why she couldn't kill Kadira when she had been able to kill her half-brother, her own blood. He may not be able to understand why she was willing to die for her. But it was something that was important to Ziva, something she needed to do. And he found that she shouldn't be in this all by herself.

Sneaking away from NCIS had been easier than he thought. He had just said that he was going to get himself a coffee and asked Gibbs, McGee and Jen if they wanted anything before leaving with their orders, his gun safely at his hip, his badge in his top drawer.

It had taken him a lot of effort to come up with a place Ziva could be staying at. But then he had remembered a house just outside of D.C. that she had told him about. One she had mentioned to have set up for Ari, unofficially, off the record. Their private place if everything went downhill, a chance to sit out the worst and then flee the country if even Mossad decided that he was too much of a risk for them to take. Actually, Tony mused, that action alone already showed how much Ziva had cared for her family. That, along with the fact that even though she was not on the best of terms with her father, she had never actually said that she hated him, or anything to that extent. Because in her heart, she was still his daughter and Ari's sister, and she loved both Eli and Ari, despite the people they were.

Tracking down the safehouse had been a different matter. Ziva hadn't provided him with an address, but he remembered a few details from her stories, and had fed the computer with them. It came up with two possible locations, and Tony had decided to check out the nearer one first. When he drove down the narrow path to the house in the woods, he turned off the lights on his car and maneuvered carefully through the darkness. Turning the ignition off a good distance away, he got out, and walked a few steps, his eyes on the house. The light was on inside, and when he got a look at the door, or rather, what was left of it, he knew he had the right place. He drew his gun and crept forward as silently and fast as he could.

* * *

_TBC_


	21. Chapter 21

Layla ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath. The gun next to her held one bullet, all she had to do was pull the trigger. Suicide however was not an option for her. Not when she could use the bullet to kill someone first. Though she longed to have it be Ziva David, she would settle on anyone, preferably Mossad.

She had known the risks when she joined Hamas. Perhaps it was her age, her inexperience with those things that had let her to believe it would not be her. Not on her first mission. But this was just like getting pregnant, wasn't it? It could happen on the first time you had sex. And you could die on your first terrorist mission. Just her kind of luck to manage it.

Anger she didn't feel. Not at Kadira or Farook, that was. Or at anyone in Hamas. She knew that it had been right of Kadira and her husband to leave her behind. They were faster when it was just the two of them. She was just a burden, she would slow them down and manage to get the three of them caught. With her out of the picture, perhaps they would manage to take David down before getting arrested. Or killed. Whichever would happen first.

She would wait. NCIS had to be close behind. And Mossad probably, too. They had tried to take out one of their own, after all. And Mossad did not forgive such actions.

No. They would come after them. And when the time was up, she'd be prepared.

With a soft voice, she began to recite the prayer she had been saying for the last two hours.

* * *

_TBC_


	22. Chapter 22

When Ziva had shot Ari Haswari in his basement, Gibbs had felt statisfied. She had proven that Mossad sometimes actually cared about their actions and killing the right people. Then a few minutes later, he had learned that he had been her brother. Half-brother, she always corrected the people that referred to him as her brother. But the look in her eyes had said it all back then. She had loved him, no matter who his mother had been. And she had felt sorry. For whom, he had never quite been able to figure out. For him that he had to die, or for her because she was forced to kill him? And now, there was a whole new perspective. Perhaps she had felt sorry for the girl that had just lost the last member of her family the moment Ziva had pulled the trigger.

Losing your parent was bad. Losing your child was wrong. Losing your brother was an experience Gibbs did not have, but judging by how close Esfiri and Haswari appeared to have been, he thought the pain must have been similar to the one he felt when he lost his wife and his daughter. And he remembered how badly he had wanted revenge.

Looking over to the other side of the door, his gut churned. Michael Rivkin. Something about the man rubbed him up the wrong way. It was a little strange how badly he wanted in on the rescue mission, how hard he had fought with Jen in order to get her to involve Mossad, to let them have a look at their findings. Gibbs got the feeling that the Israeli was not telling the entire story. Either way, they could use anyone to help them rescue Ziva.

Nodding once, he took a stance, and the woman, no, the girl that had stood behind Rivkin kicked open the door to the motel room. Wood went flying as the three of them stormed in, their guns raised. DiNozzo and Jen were backing them up from the outside of the room, while McGee was in the car, still trying to get a position on Ziva's cell.

Rivkin was the first to relax and lower his gun. On the bed sat the girl that had been shot, her hands raised behind her head, her eyes full of quite defiance and anger. The Mossad girl, who seemed about her age, tensed, and shouted at her in Hebrew, then Arabic. Layla did not answer. Gibbs lowered his weapon, and showed her his badge.

"I'm an NCIS agent. You tried to kill one of my people. If you tell me where the other two are, I promise you will not be left with Mossad." he told her softly. He could see the fear flicker behind her eyes, before she spat him in the face. He heard Jen gasp behind him. Slowly, he got up and wiped his face. He turned around and opened his mouth to tell DiNozzo to arrest her when the piercing sound of a gunshot rang through the room. He whipped around, only to find Rivkin slowly lowering his gun. The girl lay on the bed, the wall behind her plastered with blood and brain matter, blood seeping from her shattered skull. The chocolate eyes that had just stared into his with so much life were empty.

"You bastard!" Gibbs yelled and felt Jen's firm grip on his arms, pulling him out of the motel room before he had a chance to strangle Rivkin.

* * *

_TBC_

_Can you tell I never liked Rivkin? *whistles innocently*  
_


	23. Chapter 23

_Please note that **this update contained Chapters 18 to 23**. If you have not read the previous ones, I suggest you go back to do so._

_And may I remind you of the two questions I posted with the first chapter of this update?_

_1) Is there anyone here that would be interested in a **prequel **that deals with the Kadira/Ari relationship?_

_2) Is there a **native English speaker** that could beta a T-rated Tiva-story of about 5,700 words? Focus is on **general input as well as grammar, especially tenses** since I changed them three times when wiriting and while I went back and edited it, I think I missed some instances.  
_

_

* * *

_

The situation was eerily familiar to her. Ziva David stood in the middle of the room, hands raised in the air in a surrendering gesture. Even though she knew it would not change anything. She was about to die. Hopefully, Kadira would make it quick. After all, she had not been able to kill her the first two times. She must have just learned about Ari, her anger fresh. Blinding fury Ziva had experienced numerous times in the past. Perhaps blinding enough so that Kadira would shoot her before realizing that she really wanted her to suffer through an unbearable amount of pain.

Against her better judgment, she opened her mouth to speak. But words failed her. What would she say to the girl whose brother she had killed? She had taken him away from her, on the grounds that he had joined the organization Kadira was now also part of. Telling her that would make her even angrier, Ziva was sure of that. Because it would also mean that she would have to kill her the first chance she got. Mossad did not negotiate with terrorist. They were to be taken out after every ounce of information had been obtained. And Kadira would not talk.

Ziva felt the seconds tick by and wondered why she was still alive. This was ridiculous. She just had to bring up her foot and kick the gun away. She could just run away, outrun her persuaders. By now, half of Mossad and all of NCIS would be after them. Perhaps they were already closing in on them. But instead of doing it, she opened her mouth again.

*Mossad's been informed. You should try to get out of the country as long as you can do it.* she told Kadira. The woman gave an undignified snort.

|How stupid do you think I am? Flee the country to have them follow me into the next? And waste the chance to kill you? I don't think so, Zivale.| she shook her head, her dark eyes blazing with fury. Feisty, Tony would have called her. Kadira had always had a fierce temper and not backed down from a fight. It came from growing up in Gaza, and watching the people around you drop like flies. You stopped fighting and you died, it was as easy as that. But now Ziva realized that this was a war without winners. They were all losing the things important to them. It had cost them so much, Kadira had lost all her family, and she was left with only her father. It would not end if they both died tonight. What was the sense in fighting it?

Ziva dropped her hands a few inches, spreading them in silent encouragement.

*Do it. Shoot me.* she told Kadira. Hesitation flickered in her eyes before the grip the Palestine had on her gun tightened. Then she pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the night.

* * *

_TBC_

_Yes, I am **that** evil and end the update here.  
_


	24. Chapter 24

_This update has **chapters 24 to 26** (all rather short and with some swearing in them). The final chapter should be up on Thursday._

_Again, the questions I posted with the last update, because I received ONE (1) answer. You can send a PM, if you don't want to put it in a review, I don't care about that.  
_

_1) Is there anyone here that would be interested in a **prequel **that deals with the Kadira/Ari relationship? (Negative answers welcome, too)  
_

_2) Is there a **native English speaker** that could beta a T-rated Tiva-story of about 5,700 words? Focus is on **general input as well as grammar, especially tenses** since I changed them three times when wiriting and while I went back and edited it, I think I missed some instances. And I don't know if it makes that much sense, either._

_On with the story.  
_

* * *

The sound of a gunshot made Tony freeze in mid-step. He threw all caution into the wind and ran towards the house. Just as he was setting foot on the front porch, another shot rang out. Pain seared through his arm, the force of the shot slammed through his body and made him stumble to the ground. He groaned silently and cursed his luck. Of course there had to be two of them. Stupid, Anthony, stupidstupidstupid!

A swift kick to his stomach made him turn around and a flashlight was aimed into his eyes. He tried to raise his hand, but the pain was unbearable. And his right hand still clutched his-

Whoever was standing above him snatched his gun. He heard a shuffling coming from the house. That made three people, two fighting inside, one outside aiming his flashlight at him. At least three people, he quickly corrected himself.

"Agent DiNozzo. You should have waited for reinforcement."

The accent was familiar, though the voice was not. Realization hit. Kadira's accent at the drug store had sounded just the same. Arabic as native language.

"Too bad for you." the man added. Tony heard a gun being cocked, and reacted on instinct. He kicked upward, and his foot connected with the groin of his assailant. He dropped his gun and flashlight and fell to his knees in pain. Tony quickly snatched his gun and aimed it at him.

"Yeah, too bad for me." he said before pulling the trigger.

* * *

_TBC_


	25. Chapter 25

Kadira's mind went blank for a second as her head connected with the hardwood floor. The little bitch!

Swiftly, she threw up her hand and smirked at it connected and she heard a painful groan coming from Ziva. Hot liquid ran down her hand as the weight of the Mossad Officer left her and she stumbled backwards. Kadira had succeeded in hitting and probably also breaking the Israeli's nose.

She did not lose any time and tackled her, her fists flying to her face and side. She had been too slow, though, Ziva had already recovered partly from the blow, enough to throw up her defenses. She blocked the blow aimed at her face, and partly succeeded in avoiding the one aimed at her ribs. Her knee shot up and hit Kadira in the stomach. All of her breath left the Palestine in a millisecond, and she collapsed, clutching at her abdomen. That one really hurt.

She looked up in time to see a bedside lamp flying at her head and quickly rolled out of the way, jumping up in the process. What had gotten into the Mossad bitch? First she put away her gun, then she asked her to kill her, and now she was attacking her with the furniture? Fury surged through her, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Kadira turned and landed a roundhouse kick directly into Ziva's side, sending her flying against the wall. Left panting, she pushed a strand of hair out of her face and ducked under a flying fist that wanted to connect with her jaw. Its counterpart slammed into her stomach and she felt an elbow be rammed into her back before she collapsed on the floor again, groaning in pain.

* * *

_TBC_


	26. Chapter 26

_Please note that this update included **chapters 24 to 26**. Final chapter should be up around Thursday-ish._

_Because I love to repeat myself, I still have two questions for you:_

_1) Is there anyone here that would be interested in a **prequel **that deals with the Kadira/Ari relationship?_

_2) Is there a **native English speaker** that could beta a T-rated Tiva-story of about 5,700 words? Focus is on **general input as well as grammar, especially tenses** since I changed them three times when wiriting and while I went back and edited it, I think I missed some instances._

* * *

Ziva quickly danced out of reach of the Hamas terrorist. She was panting, pain surged through her face and her side where Kadira's boot had managed to hit. Her ribs already groaned in protest at her ragged breathing, this was not a good sign. She quickly looked around the room. She hadn't been here in a while, she had forgotten where everything was. The lamp was shattered and lying too far away. Luckily, the same was true for Kadira's gun which she had been slammed from her hand as Ziva had tackled her to the ground.

She had been wrong in her judgment; her instinct to survive was stronger than she had thought. She would not let Kadira kill her without a fight. But she would also try to knock her out without killing the Palestine girl. If only she found something heavy enough to-

Her feet went out under her, and Ziva found herself pressed down to the floor by Kadira's weight. She went to struggle but froze when she felt cold steel digging into her throat. Damn. She had forgotten that Kadira had always been carrying a knife since she had been twelve.

The face of her enemy was contorted in fury, and she slammed Ziva's head back into the floor. Blackness surrounded her for a second, pain from the back of her skull almost overriding that coming from her nose. She felt blood trickle down her throat and neck. Kadira must have already managed to nick her skin. She would indeed die tonight.

|Why?| the Palestine hissed at her. Ziva stared into her face, failing to see the girl she had know for the first time since she had come crashing into her life again. It was not Kadira. This was a monster. The beautiful bubbly girl that had played hide-and-seek with her had been replaced by someone that was set out to kill. The concept of mercy was lost to her, reasoning with her would be a futile attempt.

*Because he killed an innocent woman in cold blood! Because he was a monster! He deserved to die, Kadi!* she screamed at her, tears streaming down her face at the realization that the tiny grain of hope for Kadira had been lost. There was no chance to have her back. She would not change, she would not regret her actions. And she would kill her.

Ziva closed her eyes against her tears and rambled of the Vidui as quickly as she could, determined to get as far as possible until -

* * *

_TBC_

_I thought we had already established that I am evil for ending an update at an important scene with the last update ;)_


	27. Chapter 27

Blinding white light surrounded her. The pain was gone from her body. She felt strangely at peace. It was okay.

Blinking against the brightness, she reached up and shielded her eyes against the light that seemed to come from everywhere. Her dark, worn clothes had been replaced by a soft white summer dress that brought out the bronze tone of her skin. Despite herself, she smiled. It looked nice.

The sense of being watched startled her, and she slowly raised her head. Gasping, her hand flew to her mouth. She wanted to say something, but could not form a coherent thought, never mind a whole sentence. The sense of language was lost to her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took a step towards him. He looked perfect, the white pants and shirt illuminating him, catching the light. He smiled, the dimples she loved so much showing.

As she came to a halt in front of him, he took her face into his hands and softly kissed her forehead. She whispered his name, the name that had meant so much to her. The white headscarf covering her hair fluttered in a soft breeze.

They were reunited again. Brother and sister, as it should be.

He drew her into a loving embrace and rocked her gently. As she opened her eyes and looked over his shoulder, her breath hitched, tears finally breaking free. The man she loved stood in the distance, patiently awaiting his turn.

* * *

Blackness. Nothing more than eternal darkness. Perhaps she deserved this. Killer that she was.

Pain. Never ending pain that surged through her entire body, making her feel like she was being picked by thousands of needles while on fire.

Loud noises. A loud rushing, something pulsing in the air around her. A shrill beeping sound.

Something tucked at her hand. She wanted to scream in pain. But her mouth would not open. It felt like it was full of cotton. Not a single sound escaped her.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She did not try to blink them away but let them fall. A tiny sob escaped her.

Her mind was not able to form a coherent thought. The pain was blinding, hot white in the darkness that surrounded her.

If this was her version of hell, it was pretty good at doing its job and torturing her.

**The End**

**

* * *

**_I actually enjoyed writing this. Hopefully, the fight scene did not suck as much as I think it did. Imagining it is easy, putting the pictures into words isn't._

_For all those who hated Kadira: I loved writing her scenes. She's a nice character, in a twisted sense._

_I realize that Michael Rivkin did not have to be in there. I also realize that Eli David did not play that much of a role, besides ordering the killing of Kadira. It did, however, illustrate what would certainly happen to the group if they were caught by Mossad. I never liked Rivkin, not just because I'm a Tiva-shipper [most of the time, though she does have her moments with Gibbs in S3]. He was cold and manipulating. Perhaps he loved her, but certainly not as much as she did. He used her to get information, and betraying someone's trust is the worst thing to do in a relationship._

_I want to thank you all for your reviews and alerts and favs of this story. It means a lot to me._

_As for the prequel, if, and that's a fat __**if,**__ I post it, it won't be soon. The stuff I have already written is pretty raw, and needs to be rewritten before anything can be published. If it ever will be._

_Again, a huge __**THANK YOU**__ for your support during this story. It is very much appreciated.  
_


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